


calm before the storm

by guccipherous



Series: g.i.n.a.s.f.s. [1]
Category: Criminal Minds (US TV)
Genre: Academia, Astrophysics, Bisexual Spencer Reid, Drug Use, M/M, alcohol use, grad school
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-06
Updated: 2020-12-25
Packaged: 2021-03-05 19:02:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 36,314
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25740283
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/guccipherous/pseuds/guccipherous
Summary: Owen is everything Spencer isn't- a social butterfly with a beer perpetually in hand. That doesn't stop Spencer from approaching Owen at a public lecture at MIT, or the relationship that blossoms from there.A shameless self-insert fanfic I've been working on since June and wanted to share with the world.
Relationships: Spencer Reid/Original Male Character(s)
Series: g.i.n.a.s.f.s. [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2081448
Comments: 28
Kudos: 85





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is really a shameless self-insert. I'm a senior at a liberal arts college trying to deal with the loss of my junior and senior years of college while also trying to convince myself that grad school will provide me the life I want. Anyways, I wanted to play around with the idea of Spencer having more of a social backstory than he was given on the show.
> 
> There are some things I've changed from cannon to work better for me, namely Spencer's degrees and where he got them. It honestly always seemed super weird to me that he would have grad degrees in hard sciences while only having bachelor's in psych and sociology, which he uses more in his job? But I am an astrophysics/sociology double major so I guess I can't really talk

Spencer and Owen met when they were both at MIT- Spencer was working on finishing his first doctorate and starting his second, and Owen was starting his doctorate. They existed in different departments, on different ends of campus, but both managed to end up at this talk on the importance of public service in academia. Owen had heard about Spencer, of course.

Every student in Owen’s cohort had tried to figure out everything they could about the certified genius in social sciences. It was common knowledge that he was this brilliant guy who was super young and qualified for his second Ph.D., who decided to pick up a bachelor's just because. Everybody doubted the rumors that Spencer was 19 when he started his PhD. That seemed too far-fetched for their liking.

They met in August- hot and sweaty in a 150-person lecture hall. Spencer’s first impression of Owen was that he was smart in a different way than Spencer was. He raised his hand at this lecture and asked a long-winded question comparing dying stars to social inequalities in a way that made perfect sense. Owen seemed like somebody he wanted to have a conversation with, somebody he could see himself sharing a cup of tea and a long debate on the nuances of classic literature. Although Spencer had finally grown out of his most awkward stage, he was plenty lonely at MIT. Everybody else in the psychology and sociology departments avoided him like the plague outside of class- they assumed he wanted nothing to do with them because they were _just_ MIT PhD candidates, and even after a year and a half at MIT Spencer rarely spent time with people outside of the scheduled academic commitments, and he was determined to change that. He decided he would talk to Owen after the lecture ended, ask a follow-up question, see if he could work in a coffee date sometime.

He tapped Owen on the shoulder while he was talking to one of his classmates. Owen turned around to see Spencer behind him, an unfamiliar face.

“Hi, that was a really interesting question on Marxist theory. I’m Spencer, by the way.” He didn’t stick out his hand to shake but smiled at Owen wide. “Spencer Reid.”

“I’m Owen.” He stuck out his hand to shake and Spencer indulged him. Owen’s hands were strong, and Spencer could feel the rings on his fingers pressing into his own. “I’m in the physics department, where are you studying?”

“I’m in the social sciences division- I’m doing a synoptic program on geographical profiling.”

The realization clicked for Owen then, and he immediately knew who Spencer was. Mark, Owen’s friend made the same connection, and excused himself, leaving the two men alone. Spencer started talking again, anxious enough where he could feel himself rambling.

“I thought your point on the nuances of public good concerning the alienation of the worker was great, but now I’m wondering how you got so familiar with classical theory if you’re a physicist.”

“I got a bachelor's in sociology, actually!” Owen said, smiling and putting his hands in his pockets. “I double majored in undergrad but focused on physics when I came to grad school.”

“You know a lot for somebody with just a bachelors.” Spencer paused for a second before continuing. “That didn’t sound like I wanted it to. I was hoping maybe I could ask you some more questions on Conflict theory sometime- maybe over coffee?”

“I don’t know- do you want to talk about sociological theory? Or something else?”

“Is both an option?”

Owen laughed and looked Spencer in the eye. Spencer was taller than him, with shaggy cut brown hair and soft eyes. He dressed like a stereotype of a professor- corduroy pants and a button-up shirt, a sweater and worn in wingtips. He even had the tweed patches on his blazer.

“Fine with me.”

Owen gave him his number- they had coffee plans for 2:15 pm the next Thursday.

Owen showed up fifteen minutes late totally by accident- his early morning office hours had run an hour and a half late and his entire day was thrown off. He was sweaty from the walk there from the parking lot, there was a coffee stain on his jeans, and he was pretty sure his bank account had $1.86 in it. Owen burst into the café terrified that Spencer would’ve already left, his heart pounding and hands more clammy than usual. To his surprise, Spencer was sitting in the window seat, bathed in sunlight and fully engrossed in a well-loved copy of Marx’s _Das Kapital_. There were two iced coffees on the table in front of him

“Spencer! Hi- I’m so sorry I’m late- I got tied up and meant to text you but I never had the time for it.” Owen stumbled over his words as he walked over to Spencer, wiping his hands on his pants as he crossed the room.

“No worries at all!” He put his book down and smiled at Owen. “I ordered for you, I hope that’s alright. Dirty Chai with extra cinnamon, right? Iced?”

“Yeah, that’s it.” He sat down across from Spencer, sliding his bag under the table as he spoke. “You remembered.”

“I have an Eidetic memory.”

Spencer smiled at Owen as he pushed the cup towards his date as he picked up his own- it was an iced coffee with 6 pumps of cane syrup, and Spencer had to stir it up before he could take a drink.

“Oh, that’s cool.” Owen felt his cheeks flush as he got comfortable, pulling the lid off of his coffee cup taking a sip. “I don’t know what that means.”

“It’s the ability to recall something from memory without using a mnemonic device.”

“So, you remember everything?”

“Um, most things. Everything I read and most things I hear, but audio memory works differently than visual memory so it’s not a guarantee.”

“That’s so interesting.” Owen leaned back in his chair and took another sip of the coffee- it was perhaps in the top ten coffees he had gotten in Boston, but Owen didn’t know if it was because of the drink itself or the company.

“I guess so. I mostly just use it to win at trivia contests.”

Owen laughed louder than he meant to, and Spencer joined in. His laugh made Owen’s heart speed up, but it also calmed him down. The two of them talked for hours- about everything and anything. Spencer told Owen about growing up in Vegas, riding around Caltech’s campus on his bike at 3 a.m. when he couldn’t sleep, how he hated technology because it was the only thing that made him feel stupid. Owen told him about the first time he did acid, the best concert he had gone to that year, how he one time had sex behind a road sign in undergrad and got chased by the sheriff. It was clear that the two of them had lived very different lives up until that point, but Owen was interested in the man across the table from him and knew he wanted to spend more time with him. Every time there was a lull in the conversation, one of them found another question to ask, another story to tell.

The two of them talked until the workers started closing the café for the night, wiping down counters and mopping spilled coffee up off of the floor.

“I guess we’re getting kicked out,” He said, scrunching up his eyebrows. “Right when I thought of one more bird fact you probably haven’t heard.”

“We should probably go, get out of their hair.”

Owen stretched as he stood up, fishing his car keys out of his pocket as Spencer tried to find his.

“We’ll just have to do this again soon.” Spencer ran a hand through his hair. “Can I walk you to your car?”

“Sure!”

The walk to Owen’s car was warm- the night air felt like a warm hug and it made Owen feel dangerously bold as he walked hand in hand with Spencer towards his car. Spencer’s hands were bigger than Owen’s, and he kept running his thumb over the outside of his hand as he talked.

“It’s super interesting, really! There’s so much literature on the domestication of birds and I just think it’s the things we as people will do even if we don’t have to. Who would want a goose in their home? But geese were the first domesticated bird, which I think is strange. Why start there?”

“I mean, if you can domesticate a goose you can domesticate anything.”

“That’s true. It’s just weird to think that people would start there.”

The two of them stopped in front of Owen’s car, and Spencer squeezed Owen’s hand. “Is it weird that I don’t want to say goodbye?”

Owen could feel his cheeks flush as he spoke- he also didn’t want to say goodbye, but he didn’t know how to tell Spencer that without making him run. Owen knew this was Spencer’s fourth date, ever, and his first with a man. “No, I think that’s normal.”

“Can I see you again soon?”

“How soon?” Owen leaned against his car as Spencer stepped closer to me. “I’m pretty tied up with classes and work for the next few days, but I’m free on Sunday.”

“I can do Sunday,” Spencer said, putting his hands in his pockets and smiling. “If I want to talk to you before then, can I call you?”

“Yeah, you should definitely call me.” Owen stood back up and moved towards Spencer as he opened his car door. “Or maybe, you could just come home with me? I’ll make you dinner.”

Spencer froze for a second, cheeks going red. “I- I want to say yes.”

“You’re allowed to say no.” Owen smile at him softly. “We can say goodbye.”

“I hate to say it, but I think we should say goodbye.” He said, taking a half-step backwards. “I really want to say yes, but I have an 8 a.m. lecture and I told myself I’d get to bed at a reasonable hour tonight.”

“Totally fine. We’ll just have to continue this another time.”

“Sunday?”

“I can do that.” Owen smiled at him, mind running at the speed of light trying to think of something I could offer that wouldn’t bore him. “Have you been to the Museum of Science?”

“I haven’t actually. I’ve been meaning to go, but I haven’t yet.”

“Then let’s do that.”

“Great.”

“Great.”

They said their goodbyes for the next few minutes, Owen leaning on his car and finding any excuse to keep Spencer talking. Owen kept getting distracted by the fireflies in the distance when Spencer was rambling, but the sound of Spencer’s voice was enough to make his knees feel like Jell-O. Spencer felt the same way, he was only rambling because he was mapping Owen’s freckles into his memory. The two of them settled on meeting again that Sunday at noon at the Science Museum. Owen couldn’t wait.


	2. Chapter 2

Spencer was addicting- he was so smart and so kind and when he paid attention to Owen, he felt like he was floating. Owen called him every night before bed just to hear his voice.

When they met up for their date at the science museum, Owen still had his employee key card and knew all the secret exhibits. After the two of them paid for their tickets, Owen pulled him into an employee-only bathroom.

“What are you doing?” His brows furrowed as Owen rifled through his bag, eventually producing a joint.

“Finding this!” Owen gave him a calm smile as he opened the window in the bathroom and double-checked to make sure the door was locked. “You can say no.”

“Are you sure we won’t get caught?”

“Absolutely positive.”

Spencer’s face broke into a grin as Owen lit the joint and passed it to him. He coughed the second the smoke passed his lips, but kept going. After a few rotations, Owen held on to the joint and grabbed Spencer’s hand.

“Do you know how to shotgun smoke?”

“Uh, no? I’m not quite sure what that means.”

“I’m just going to blow the smoke into your mouth.”

“That’s it?”

“Yeah.”

Spencer gave him the go-ahead and Owen inhaled carefully. Spencer was taller than he was, so Owen had to stand on his toes to be eye level with him. Slowly, he leaned in and exhaled the smoke into Spencer’s open mouth, their lips almost touching. Spencer breathed in the smoke and locked eyes with Owen, before closing the distance and kissing him softly on the lips. All Owen could feel the stubble on Spencer’s upper lip and how nervous he was.

Spencer pulled back as Owen handed him what was left of the joint. “Was that ok?” Spencer asked, taking the joint from Owen.

“Yeah!”

He nodded as he hit the joint, finishing it and throwing it into the toilet. The two of them stood there silently for a minute before Spencer looked at Owen, eyes red and a smile on his face.

“Do you do this every time you go to a museum?”

“Only when I want to have a good time.”

Spencer’s laugh was music to Owen’s ears. “Alright, I think I can make peace with that.”

Spencer grabbed Owen by the waist and kissed him again, this time more confident and surer of himself. Owen kissed him back and pulled his face closer, bringing Spencer down to his height. Their chests pressed together and Spencer’s hands moved to the base of Owen’s spine, while Owen’s got lost in his hair. Spencer slowly moved Owen back against the wall, and the two of them kept kissing until I knocked over the trashcan.

“I think we should do that more often,” Spencer said as he helped Owen sweep the trash back into the can. “I mean, I really liked that.”

“I did too.” Owen weighed his options before he spoke again- he could be honest with what he wanted to do with Spencer and tell him exactly what I wanted him to do to me in this single-stall bathroom. Or, Owen could give him a tour of the museum, build the romance aspect a little more, and tell him his dirtiest fantasies later. “Maybe we can do something like that after we finish the tour.”

“The tour?”

“Didn’t I promise a tour of the museum’s biggest secrets?”

“Huh,” Spencer laughed as Owen grabbed his hand and led him out of the bathroom. “I guess you did.”

The two of them made their way through the different exhibits, and the joint they smoked helped them fully appreciate the scale of the objects they were seeing. The two of them walked through the museum hand in hand for hours, slowly coming down from their high as they explored the building. Spencer spent half an hour designing the perfect space shuttle for a rescue craft to Mars and Owen spent far too long examining asteroids under a microscope. The two of them stayed until the museum closed.

“I really like doing this Owen.” Spencer said as they made it back to the parking garage, the two of them still holding hands.

“Me too. I think we should do this more often.” Owen said, laughing as they walked.

“You know, I think so too.” Spencer said, squeezing Owen’s hand in his.

“When?” Owen asked, pulled Spencer closer to him. “I could take you home tonight, if that’s what you want.”

“Honestly, if I didn’t have to go to an 8 a.m. lecture tomorrow I’d probably try and take you home with me.”

“Those are awful bold words.”

“What can I say? You make me a bold man.”

“What if we said goodbye, but I come over to your place on Wednesday.”

Spencer thought for a second and then smiled. “Wednesday sounds good to me.”

“Good.”

“Good.”

Owen made the move to kiss Spencer right in the middle of the parking garage, totally unphased by their location. This kiss was softer than the one they had shared in the bathroom earlier, but it still managed to make Spencer feel lightheaded.

“So I guess I’ll see you on Wednesday.”

“I guess you will.”

Spencer kissed Owen again before the two of them said goodbye. Owen was left alone in his car, head on the steering wheel, trying to slow the thoughts in his head. He couldn’t believe how well things were going with Spencer- after only two dates Owen felt that Spencer was somehow different than anybody he had dated before. Owen’s phone buzzed as he pulled out of the parking garage, and he looked down quickly to check the notification: a text from Mark (Quant Mech) that read _party 2nite! Bright friends_

Owen thought about it as he began his drive home- there was a quarter ounce of weed burning a hole through his center console and a gram and a half of coke in his dresser drawer, and he wanted to spend some more time with Spencer, preferably intoxicated. He chose to call Spencer at the next red light he reached.

“Hello?”

“Hi, it’s me- Owen.”

“Yeah, what’s going on? Did something happen?”

“No, I was just wondering if you’d come out to this party with me tonight. I know we already said goodbye, and I know you have an early morning, but I thought I’d offer.”

Spencer was quiet for a second on his end of the line before he spoke. “I’ve never been invited to a party at MIT.”

“Well, now you have. You can totally say no if you don’t want to.”

“No, no. I’ll come out.”

“Great! I can pick you up if you want? In two hours?”

“Yeah, yeah that sounds good.”

Owen’s drive home was uneventful- he stopped at the gas station store for a carton of cigarettes and a bottle of champagne and ended up picking out a fifth of vodka as well. When he made it home, he spent the next hour and a half of his life trying to prepare for his night as usual. A quick dinner of carbs and protein with a cocktail on the side. Owen smoked two cigarettes while he made dinner and another one as he procrastinated showering as long as he could. While Owen was waiting for the shower to heat up, he got a text from Spencer asking what to wear. Owen thought it was cute, and he managed to shoot off a flirty response before he overthought the interaction.

The shower Owen took somehow managed to wind up his nerves, and Owen considered taking an Ativan while he was brushing his teeth. He could probably handle a little something to take the edge off, and he didn’t plan on getting all _that_ drunk tonight. Owen swallowed the tablet with sink water as he toweled his hair dry, still trying to figure out what to wear. He ended up on some black shorts and a god-awful thrifted Hawaiian he bought on a dare. Owen mixed one final cocktail while he was getting ready, drinking it down as he raked some gel through his hair and looked for his party shoes.

Owen picked Spencer up half an hour after he said he would, and Spencer was sitting on the steps in front of his apartment building. Spencer looked almost heavenly in the streetlight, and as he climbed into Owen’s car, Owen couldn’t stop smiling. Spencer had fixed his hair but he hadn’t shaved, and he was wearing jean shorts and a cardigan. Somehow, Owen thought this was a good look on him.

“Sorry for picking you up so late-I couldn’t figure out what to wear.” Owen offered as Spencer buckled his seatbelt. “You look nice.”

Spencer’s cheeks flushed as Owen spoke. “Thanks. I didn’t know if I should bring anything- I haven’t been to many parties so I’m a little clueless.”

“You’re totally fine.” Owen reached into the backseat at a red light and passed Spencer the brown paper bag from the liquor store. “There’s a fifth of vodka if you want any- I was saving the champagne for the party.”

Spencer was quick to pull out the bottle, drinking down a shot and a half while Owen watched him out of the corner of his eye. Owen’s heart swelled as he watched him in the passenger seat.

“Who all is going to be there?”

“I’m pretty sure most of the physics grad students- maybe some underclassmen who snuck in? And some of the history department- Mark’s girlfriend is getting her masters on the Dutch Renaissance.”

Spencer nodded and pulled another shot from the bottle as Owen laughed.

“I’m pretty excited about this, actually.” Owen said, turning onto Mark’s street. “There’s supposed to be this crust band playing in the basement, and I _think_ it’s the band I saw a few months ago? I really liked their music and I’d love to see them again.”

Spencer nodded again and capped the vodka bottle and Owen pulled into the driveway. Owen was unphased by the party, he spent four years at a state school in Southern Florida getting his bachelors, but Spencer was a little put off by the scene in front of him. There was music pumping out of the house, people smoking cigarettes on the porch, and a keg in the front yard. Owen grabbed Spencer’s hand tight as they walked into the party, leading the way into the crowded living room. Spencer was surprised at how many people he knew at the party- he had been to quite a few physics lectures in his time at MIT, but he didn’t realize how many faces he had remembered. He was less anxious with the situation the longer he was there- the initial shock wore off quickly and then Spencer was excited to spend time with some of the smartest people he had ever met. Within 10 minutes of entering, he was in a spirited debate with some sixth-year math student about the philosophy of zero, tipsy from the vodka he had pulled in the car and excited to talk to people.

Owen left him in his conversation to see the host, kissing Mark on the cheek when he found him.

“Do you have cups?” Owen asked Mark, holding the bottle of champagne up in the air.

“Drink it straight from the bottle!” Mark yelled, clapping Owen on the shoulder as he walked by him to get into the kitchen. “Where’s your date?”

“Somewhere in the living room talking about number theory? I think?”

Mark rooted through the cupboard trying to find Owen his cups as Owen patted down his shirt pockets looking for one of the joints he had pre-rolled. Owen sparked the joint right as Mark handed him a stack of Solo cups, and Mark laughed at the sight. The two of them walked into the living room together, sharing the joint and searching the crowd for Spencer. Owen spotted him next to the beer pong table, somehow sipping a PBR and giving a mini-lecture on social psychology.

Owen and Spencer locked eyes across the beer pong table and Spencer’s face lit up like a Christmas tree. Owen made his way to Spencer and introduced himself to the Math Candidate, slipping a solo cup into Spencer’s free hand. Spencer didn’t feel pressured to drink, if anything he wanted to stay sober to make a good impression on Owen, but he found himself rushing himself through the beer can in his hand before he wandered off somewhere else with Owen.

“You said there was a band?” Spencer asked after their first passthrough of the house, halfway through his cup of Champagne.

“I think so!”

Owen had to yell over the music as he pulled Spencer deeper into the house, leading him into a basement. There were four guys in a band playing, and Spencer didn’t think they were that talented but he did appreciate the effort. Spencer was also aware that in the next 15 minutes the band would start to sound a lot better, as his body metabolized all the alcohol he had consumed too quickly. Owen was more excited than Spencer, pulling his date closer to the stage as his head bobbed to the music.

There had been one constant in Owen’s life since he was 13, and that was the appeal of a live show, every city Owen had bounced between had, essentially, the same musical gathering twice a month. It was always someplace a little sketchy, with $2 beer cans being sold out of a cooler and the cops getting called at the end of the night, but the bass lines and the pounding of the drums kept calling to Owen. Tonight, was no exception- the joint Owen smoked in the kitchen made him feel more in tune with the music than usual, and the champagne he was downing made him feel a little flirty.

Spencer and Owen were dancing in the crowd of people, listening to 4 philosophy post-docs wail away on their instruments. The two of them were having a great time, tripping over each other’s feet, spinning around, and laughing the entire time. When the song ended, Owen topped Spencer’s solo cup off from the champagne bottle he was holding and kissed him on the cheek. Spencer didn’t turn red this time, he just grabbed Owen’s hand and held it tight.

The two of them stayed through the rest of the set, dancing and drinking champagne until the band finished. Owen wanted to leave after the next band got on stage, and Spencer let himself get led back up the stairs to the kitchen.

The two of them were properly intoxicated by now. They finished the bottle of wine while they were dancing in the basement, and Spencer and Owen were feeling the effects by now. Owen pulled Spencer into the backyard for air and Spencer almost tripped down the porch steps, grabbing onto Owen’s shoulders tight for balance. Their bodies were close together, and the night air was cool on their faces as the two of them sat outside, sharing a cigarette in the grass. It was surprisingly quiet outside, at least in the backyard, and Owen liked hearing Spencer ramble about ethnomusicology in his cross faded state.

Spencer’s face was half-lit from the light in the kitchen, and when he was inhaling from the cigarette the embers lit up the other half of his face. Owen was enamored with him, this was most certainly the most beautiful man he had ever seen, not to mention kind and smart and funny. Owen had the same feeling in his joints that he did after his first date with Spencer- the same warm, easy loving feeling in the air overtaking him.

Their first kiss was quick- Spencer kissed Owen back more desperate than he ever had kissed him before, but he pulled back as quick as Owen had leaned in. Owen had the fleeting thought that Spencer was about to throw up all over him, but instead, Spencer kissed him again, desperate and hungry. This wasn’t Spencer’s first kiss or even his first drunken kiss at a house party, but this was the first time he had kissed somebody he liked this much. If he wasn’t this drunk, he probably would have been too anxious to even make a move. But here he was, making out with a very attractive astrophysicist on the back porch of a house party, and Spencer felt _so_ right.

The two of them made out until some drunk girls came out to smoke and interrupted them. The girls apologized, but Owen pulled Spencer back into the party, leading him back into the crowded living room. There was an 80’s greatest hit playlist, and Spencer and Owen were dancing before they made it to the center of the room. Neither one of them could dance, really, but they were drunk enough to twist and jump around to the music.

The two of them danced through 3 more songs before Spencer pulled Owen out of the living room. Owen didn’t have the time to ask where they were going before Spencer pulled him into a bathroom.

“Turn around!” Spencer said, laughing and pushing on Owen’s shoulders. “I have to pee.”

Owen turned around and covered his eyes as Spencer peed, letting him finish before he started talking.

“Spencer, can I ask you something?”

“Yes. And you can turn around now.”

Owen looked at Spencer, who was looking at himself in the bathroom mirror.

“Can we have sex? Like is that something we can do?”

Spencer looked at Owen through the mirror and smiled at him. “Like, now? Here, in this bathroom?”

“Well, I don’t know about that.” Owen laughed and stepped closer to Spencer. “I was thinking my car if it was that urgent, but I think my goal was back at my apartment. Or yours, I guess.”

Spencer turned red at his collar line and turned around to face Owen. “Are you being serious? Or are you just drunk?”

“I don’t know if I’d call this drunk,” Owen said, finishing off his drink as he spoke. “I would say I’m definitely _something_ , but I’m still very serious. You’re very attractive, incredibly smart, and the more time I spend with you the less I want to say goodbye.”

Spencer laughed as he opened the bathroom door and walked back into the party, Owen on his heels. “Then let’s go.”

Owen laughed as Spencer pulled him through the party and out to the driveway, stopping as Owen said his goodbyes to his friends on the way out. Owen opened the door to the passenger seat of his car for Spencer, and when he sat down in the driver’s seat he was quick to start the car. He rolled down the windows and blasted the AC as Spencer sat next to him in the dark.

“Are you good to drive?” Spencer asked, seat belt in his hand as he turned towards Owen.

“Oh, I wasn’t…” Owen trailed off as he looked at Spencer. “I was just turning the air on. Are you…?”

“Can I drive?”

Spencer cut Owen off halfway through a sentence, anxiety pushing the words out of his mouth before he realized he was even talking.

“I thought we would just stay in the driveway for a bit,” Owen said, rolling up the back windows as he spoke. “If you want to go somewhere you can drive.”

“Oh.” Spencer’s face was turning pink as he spoke, and Owen pulled the keys out of the ignition and handed them over.

“I was hoping you would smoke this joint with me in the backseat,” Owen offered a half-crushed joint and a lighter that he pulled out of his shirt pocket. “And then maybe you’d let me suck your dick?”

“Yeah, that sounds good.” Spencer took the joint from his date and smiled at him. “That sounds really good.”

Spencer climbed into the backseat, an awkward order of arms and legs sliding over the center console. Owen followed him into the backseat, and they were so close their knees were touching in the backseat. The joint was lit and Spencer and Owen passed it between the two of them while Spencer resting his free hand on Owen’s thigh.

It didn’t take long for them to work their way through the joint and for Spencer to make a move on Owen. The backseat may have been a tight squeeze, but there was plenty of room for Spencer to end up on top of Owen, kissing him like his life depended on it. Owen was more than happy with this turn of events, he really liked being pinned under Spencer, even if his head was digging into the car door.

Spencer kissed Owen after he pulled his pants back on, holding Owen’s head in his hands and kissing him hard.

“Do you still want to drive home?” Owen asked, handing the car keys to Spencer.

Spencer took a minute to think about his surroundings before he responded- Spencer was intoxicated but not necessarily too intoxicated to drive, at least in his mind. He still had pretty good reflexes, and it was 3:27 am on a Sunday. Spencer took the keys without thinking about it much more, letting himself out of the backseat to get into the driver’s seat. Somebody on the front porch pointed at him and cheered, and he felt his cheeks flush bright red.

He hadn’t felt so on display in years.

Spencer didn’t move the mirrors or the driver’s seat before he started the car, he did it as Owen tried to climb into the passenger seat and almost kicked him in the face. Spencer found it endearing that he almost got kicked in the face right as he got the seat to the perfect position, and he was backing out of the driveway before Owen even had his seatbelt on.

“Can we get ice cream?”

Owen was laying back in the passenger seat going through the CDs in his glove compartment as Spencer drove through a quiet Boston night.

“Where do you want to get ice cream at 3:30 in the morning?”

Spencer glanced at Owen as Owen loaded a CD into the car radio, and smiled as the Talking Heads filled the car.

“There’s a gas station on that corner. I’ll run in and buy them?”

Spencer pulled into the gas station and Owen was up and out of the car before Spencer put it in park. Spencer sat idling in the empty parking lot, listening to the bass line of _Psycho Killer_ , waiting for Owen to come back out of the store. Spencer was truly stunned with how this night was going- he had only ever had one-off random hookups with people, and that was only in one 6-month period at the start of his first PhD. He was pretty sure he was in love with Owen at this point, here he was driving his car at 3 am on an ice cream run, and everything felt easy.

Owen came out of the store with two wrapped ice cream bars in his hand, and he told Spencer to close his eyes when he got back into the car.

“Left, or right?”

Spencer thought for a minute before he chose left. Owen handed him a strawberry shortcake crunch bar and opened his own- a Klondike bar that looked half squished. The two of them ate their ice cream as Spencer pulled back on the street, picking a direction at random and heading that way.

“Where do you want to go?”

Owen yawned as Spencer asked him the question, stretching in the passenger seat as he bit into his ice cream bar.

“Somewhere with a bed? I’m tired and I’m pretty sure you have a lecture tomorrow.”

Spencer rolled his eyes and flipped on the turn signal. “I can take us back to my place? And you can drive yourself home in the morning?”

“Sounds good.”

Owen was smiling at Spencer, but he couldn’t see it. Spencer was looking straight ahead, occasionally glancing at his slowly melting ice cream bar as he drove. Spencer was trying to keep his composure while also thinking about what he should say to Owen. He felt like he should thank Owen for the blowjob and the ice cream but he didn’t know how to make himself say those words, especially as he was trying not to crash his date’s car.

The drive back to Spencer’s apartment was short- Owen didn’t realize how close their apartments were. Spencer was living in a studio apartment divided by secondhand bookcases and half-dead plants, with a queen mattress shoved into the corner and no TV in the living space. It was cute, Owen thought, it fit Spencer’s personality.

Spencer didn’t bother turning on the overhead light when he opened the door for Owen- the street lamps were shining in through the windows so the apartment had plenty of light. Owen kicked off his shoes by the door as Spencer locked the door behind them.

“My beds back there in the corner and the bathrooms the door on the left.” Spencer offered, setting his keys down on the counter and kicking Owen’s shoes into the corner. “I can get you some clothes, if you want?”

“Yeah, I’d like that a lot.”

Owen went into the bathroom to brush his teeth while Spencer pulled out clothes for the two of them. Spencer changed and Owen watched the whole thing, distracted by how the skinny academic was surprisingly in shape.

When the two of them climbed into bed together, Owen curled into Spencer’s shoulder and Spencer kissed the top of his head. Spencer loved sharing beds with people- he loved the intimacy and warmth of it, even in the heat that snuck into the apartment. The two of them were quick to settle into a tangle of limbs and even faster to fall asleep- worn out from the event of the night.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm posting these as I finish them! Hope you like this one :)

Spencer’s alarm went off at 7:30 and when he woke up, he forgot there was somebody else laying in his bed with him. Owen woke up as Spencer struggled to turn the alarm off, rubbing his eyes as he rolled over in bed to look at Spencer.

“You’re very cute in my bed,” Spencer told Owen, yawning as he spoke.

Spencer stretched and sat up in bed, running a hand through his hair and feeling around for his glasses. Owen thought he had a pretty good view down on the bed, wearing Spencer’s old hoodie and his underwear.

“Thanks for letting me spend the night.”

The two of them smiled at each other, and Spencer kissed Owen’s forehead as he got out of bed. Owen sat up as Spencer stretched again, this time bending forward until his spine cracked.

“Do you want coffee?”

Both of the men felt at peace as they moved through Spencer’s morning routine. Owen sat at Spencer’s kitchen table as he cooked breakfast, frying eggs and making toast with a cup of coffee in his hand. The two of them sat in a comfortable silence- Spencer didn’t exactly know what to say to Owen, and Owen didn’t want to think that much with the headache building. Owen felt comfortable in Spencer’s morning routines, eating fried eggs across from each other while Spencer recited poetry to him- he was able to ignore the pounding in his head and how tired he was.

“What’s your lecture this morning?”

“It’s a guest lecture on intergroup relationships,” Spencer explained, breaking open an egg yolk on top of his toast. “But I also have to give a talk this afternoon on my research, which I think is going to end with me in tears.”

Owen sipped his coffee as Spencer spoke- it was sweeter than Owen would’ve made it, but it tasted good. Spencer could tell he had made Owen’s coffee too sweet- but he appreciated Owen not saying anything. All Spencer could think about was how cute Owen was in the morning, messy hair and wearing one of Spencer’s hoodies from undergrad, as he tried to stomach the syrupy sweet coffee.

It was a blissfully domestic scene, Owen joked as he pulled on his clothes from the previous night as Spencer got dressed.

“I think you should wear dark wash jeans.” He offered as Spencer stood in his shirt and underwear. “And some dark shoes.”

“I think I own one pair of jeans.”

Spencer laughed as he pulled out his only pair of jeans and tried to put them on standing up, falling onto the bed. Owen couldn’t help but smile as he looked at Spencer- he was cute and funny and impossibly smart, and somehow Owen had managed to spend the night and steal his hoodie.

They both were hesitant to say goodbye- Spencer offered to walk Owen down to his car and they both knew they would stand in the parking lot for half an hour before Owen finally left. They didn’t kiss, they just talked.

It was a beautiful early August morning, and Owen’s eyes looked like honey in the sunlight. Spencer wanted to count the freckled dotting his cheeks and burn them into his memory, but he kept getting distracted by everything Owen was saying- he was talking about the hangover cure he had in undergrad- chicken patty sandwiches and Dunkin’ Iced Coffee, and somehow his voice was the best thing Spencer had ever heard.

Psychologically, Spencer knew he was only forming an attachment to Owen the way that he was because he was the first person he had dated in the 2 years he had been at MIT. He knew that it was just the chemicals in his brain after an orgasm or some weed they smoked together, but Spencer was letting himself experience more than just the facts for the first time in a while.

After Owen drove off, Spencer drove himself to work. As soon as he got to his cramped student office, he compartmentalized- pushing Owen out of his mind and focusing on what he had to do. His day passed quickly, and it wasn’t until he got back to his office after lunch that he checked his email to see a new message in his student inbox.

It was a message from Owen, [polk.o@mit.edu](mailto:polk.o@mit.edu), with the subject just reading “hey!”

_thinking of u! dinner on Friday?_

Spencer’s face lit up as he checked his calendar and replied to Owen’s email.

**I’d love to! Take out and a movie?**

Spencer and Owen kept spending their time together, going out to bars and concerts and parties, getting trashed, and then falling into bed together. Spencer loved this new side of himself- he was pretty good at beer pong because he could do the calculations fast enough to hold a conversation while playing. Owen liked having somebody to go to things with, somebody he could count on for a good time, easy conversation, great sex.

One happy hour in late September, Spencer and Owen were having half-priced beers and appetizers at the closest bar to the Physics building, holding hands on top of the table and making awful jokes to each other. Spencer was trying to convince Owen to abandon the pile of grading he had to do in favor of this old Russian movie being shown halfway across town in some bar he had heard about.

“It’s an original copy!” Spencer said a little too loud as he finished his third beer. “16 mm film reels. I’ll translate for you- we can sit in the back so we won’t bother anybody.”

Owen groaned as he picked at the last mozzarella stick on the plate in front of him. “I really want to, Spencer. But I wanted to have the writeups graded before lab tomorrow.”

Spencer sighed and squeezed Owen’s hand. “It’s fine, we can meet up after we’re both done? We can get takeout and eat in your office if we have to.”

“You’re kidding, but I have two months’ worth of lab reports to get through.”

Owen slid Spencer the mozzarella stick and downed the rest of his beer. As Spencer closed their tab with the waitress, a nicely dressed woman walked up to Owen and Spencer’s table and tapped Owen on the shoulder. He was quick to turn around and smile at her, standing up to hug her.

“Owen it’s _so_ good to see you!” The woman said, laughing as she hugged Owen back.

“Yes, it is!” Owen pulled back from her and waved his hand towards Spencer. “Maria, this is Spencer, Spencer this is Maria.”

Spencer and Maria smiled at each other and shook hands. Maria was pretty, with dark eyes and a warm smile. Spencer could tell that Owen genuinely liked her, and Maria knew the same about Spencer.

“So how do you two know each other?” Spencer asked, resting his head in his hands as he spoke.

“Owen and I used to date, actually.” Maria offered, resting her hand on Owen’s shoulder. “Right when we both first moved to Boston.”

“Yeah, the summer before I started at MIT.” Owen laughed as he hugged Maria around the shoulders, still smiling at Spencer. “We broke up when we met other people in the city.”

Spencer’s shoulders relaxed when Owen said this, and he was finally able to laugh along with Maria and Owen. Owen and Maria made promises for coffee later that week and Owen asked if he could walk Spencer back to his car. The walk back was nice, Spencer liked holding Owen’s hand as they walked down the street- it fit very well into his idea of what his first relationship should be.

Owen had made it to Spencer’s car and had kissed him goodbye when he stuck his head through the open passenger side window.

“I’m working at a bar for this punk show this weekend. Drinks are on me if you want to come for the show?”

Spencer smiled and agreed quickly- he loved going to the concerts Owen took him to- it felt like ethnography. He was fully immersed in a new culture, abiding by their rules and figuring out the structures holding the society together.

Spencer’s foreign film sped by quickly as Owen’s grading dragged on, and when Spencer called Owen to figure out dinner plans, Owen’s heart broke a little as he said he couldn’t make it. Spencer wasn’t too off-put by this- he was excited at the prospect of an early night- he had to teach his seminar tomorrow morning and he was never excited for that.

The week flew by quickly as Owen and Spencer waited for Saturday night when Spencer would come to sit with Owen at work. Spencer always worried about what to wear when he went to see Owen at bars, and he ended up in his most worn-out converse, his only pair of jeans and a t-shirt Owen bought him at Goodwill the weekend before. Spencer pulled up to the bar and parked his car on the street, feeding the meter far too many quarters and setting a timer on his watch just in case.

The bar was dark and loud and Spencer didn’t get carded when he walked in the front door. He looked pretty average to the other white guys in the venue- jeans and t-shirts, hair that needed cutting. Owen was doing a crossword at the bar, leaning over the counter with a pen in his mouth and a glass of water beside him.

Spencer approached the, scanning the newspaper as he sat down across the bar from Owen.

“33 across is _Cohen_ ,” Spencer said, smiling at Owen. “How’s your shift going?”

Owen smiled at Spencer and filled in Spencer’s answer. “It’s alright, I guess. Not many people here are over 21 so I don’t have many drinks to make.”

Spencer fidgeted in the bar seat as Owen served the man further down the bar. Owen looked fit for this life- worn-in jeans tucked into heavy Dr. Martens, black bar t-shirt hitting his torso _just right_. Owen’s hair was growing out, long enough to flop around his ears as he joked with the customer as he shook his drink. Owen came back to Spencer when he was done, tucking the five-dollar bill into his pocket as he mixed Spencer a rum and Coke. Owen slid it across the bar and leaned over to kiss Spencer on the cheek.

“You didn’t card me.” Spencer joked as he sipped on the drink. “Technically, that’s a felony.”

Owen rolled his eyes as he rinsed out his shaker in the bar sink. He technically wasn’t allowed to comp drinks anymore, especially because he was only working this shift as a favor for the guitar player of the band about to go on.

“Technically, Spencer, it’s only a misdemeanor and a fine because you’re over 18.”

Spencer laughed as he looked at the four men setting up on stage- they looked to be a little older than he was.

“So, you know them?”

Owen glanced over at men setting up on stage while he was rinsing cups. The bass player waved at him and Owen waved back.

“Yeah, we met when I was in undergrad.”

“Oh cool.”

“I used to date the guitar player, actually.” Owen offered, looking up at Spencer as he spoke.

“Oh.”

Spencer nodded as he thought through what Owen had just told him. He knew Owen had exes, the two of them had run into three or four of them on dates and at parties around Boston. Spencer also knew that most of Owen’s exes were a lot more interesting than he was.

“You should meet him after the show if you want.” Owen said, handing out water cups to a group of teenagers as he spoke to Spencer.

Spencer shrugged as he finished his rum and coke, making a mental note that he was buying Owen dinner after this.

“If it’s not too late. I have to finish grading some papers tonight after this.”

Owen laughed as he handed out the rest of the water cups.

“Are you driving tonight?”

Spencer nodded yes and Owen got him another rum and coke, pouring a Long Island Iced Tea for himself. He clinked their glasses together and took a long sip of his drink.

“I can take you back to the green room after the set ends.” Owen kissed Spencer over the bar before walking off to take some customer’s orders.

The concert itself was good. There was a shitty opener, a student band from Georgetown that couldn’t hold a tune. The band that came on next was pretty good, actually, and Spencer could see why Owen had a thing with the guitar player. Spencer wasn’t on the same level as Owen with an appreciation for live music, but he did generally enjoy shows like this- they reminded Spencer of that first party he went to with Owen.

Owen enjoyed the show too, even if he did spend part of his favorite song getting yelled at by an entitled man who didn’t like his $4 PBR. He somehow still knew all the words to the songs that they were playing, and he could tell which song was the one his ex had written about him. Owen spent most of the set looking at Spencer, though, who was bobbing his head to the music as he sipped on the free drinks Owen kept sliding him.

After the show ended and Owen’s shift ended, he pulled Spencer back behind the bar towards the back. Owen snuck in a few kisses on the walk towards the green room, and when Owen saw the door he turned around and kissed Spencer again, quick this time.

“Let me know when you want to go,” Owen said, opening the door in front of them. “I can leave whenever.”

Owen pushed the door open with his shoulder and the room cheered when he pulled Spencer in. There were a lot of introductions, but Spencer never had any trouble remembering names. Spencer thought everybody was nice, nicer than he had expected, and had no trouble settling into their conversations. Spencer accepted the first beer they offered him and turned down the rest, and followed the same philosophy for the joints produced. When the drummer (Matty Bartlett, 23 )pulled out a baggie full of fine white powder, Spencer’s mind raced through every possible substance that he might be asked to do in the next minute and a half – he had a distinct moral code towards substances, or at least he liked to think that he did.

Owen pushed on Andre’s (his ex-boyfriend) shoulder when Matty pulled out the coke, and Andre laughed and wrapped his arms around Owen and Matty.

“I think I remember Owen being the best at this kind of stuff,” Owen said, pulling the coke from Matty's hand and giving it to Owen, along with the drink tray that had been sitting on the floor.

Owen laughed and rolled his eyes as he started cutting up the lines with his bank card, making some joke about how he had settled down now. Spencer couldn’t help but stare as Owen divided up the drugs- he knew Owen had an interesting past but he didn’t know being the cocaine king of a moderately famous hardcore band fit into there.

“We know you’ve settled down, you brought a date here.”

Spencer’s cheeks flushed red when Matty called him Owen’s date.

“So, what do you do, Spencer?”

Andre had been super sociable with Spencer the entire time, and he took Owen’s concentration on the cocaine as a time to talk with Spencer more.

“I’m a PhD student too at MIT- I’m taking classes in their Social Engineering Department.”

The band nodded for a second before smiling. “Of course, you’re Owen’s date- you’re as smart as him.” Matty offered, bursting out laughing.

“I think Owen’s smarter than I am,” Spencer said, laughing as he sipped on his beer. “I have no idea what he’s doing with his astrophysics.”

Owen handed the tray to Andre, pulling a bill out of his pocket and rolling it up. Spencer could see why they passed this job onto Owen- the lines he had cut were neat and equal. Owen snorted two lines back to back and handed the bill to Andre. Owen flopped back on the couch and reached for Spencer’s hand instinctively. When the two of them locked eyes, Spencer noticed how Owen’s pupils were _huge_.

The tray was passed around the rest of the room and when it was finally handed to Spencer his hands were shaking too much to line the bill up well. Spencer’s first line was sloppy, he missed half of it on the first past and had to go back for it. Immediately, Spencer felt the rush. It was somehow better than everything he had ever felt- every orgasm, every first-place ribbon, every, but Spencer knew that it was going to get better.

Everybody crammed into the green room was laughing and joking, and Owen was running a hand through Spencer’s hair as he held a conversation with Andre about the good old days, whenever those were.

“I’m pretty sure I was happiest my first semester of college, Andre. Nothing could top that freedom. Plus, I met you.”

Although Owen was buried in Spencer, he was flirting up a storm with Andre. He was laughing at all of his shitty jokes, bringing up old memories, even asking if they played the song Andre wrote about him every night.

“Not every night,” Andre responded, laughing and taking Owen’s flirtatiousness in stride. “Just when I’m thinking of you.”

“So, most nights then?”

Spencer, meanwhile, was wrapped up in how _good_ he felt. Rationally, Spencer understood that night now, the cocaine he had snorted had triggered the reward pathway in his brain, and his neurons were producing more serotonin, dopamine, and norepinephrine than usual, which is why he felt so good. But there was something more here, something more than a chemical response in his brain making him lean back into Owen, cheeks aching from smiling so much.

Andre asked Spencer what he did again (for the fourth time tonight) and Spencer went off on his thesis topic- using statistical modeling and sociological theory to assist in Psychological profiling. In Spencer’s defense, his PhD topic was something completely new and exciting to him after spending his undergraduate years steeped in the hard sciences. Spencer’s recent fascination with social sciences and their applications had really come out of his desire to understand and fix the problems in the part of the world he could interact with.

“I also think the complexity of human life is a fascinating thing to think about,” Spencer ended on, finally taking a breath after 4 run-on sentences. “The fact that something so complex can be defeated by physical means, and that it happens often enough for my field of study to exist is just … something to wonder about.”

Spencer’s infodump came to an end and Andre thought for a second before asking Owen some question about his thesis. Spencer became acutely aware of how much time he had left on the meter (47 minutes), how many papers he had left to grade that night (13), and how long he had been in the green room. Half an hour, maybe? It felt longer and shorter like he was stuck in some time dilated state, teetering on the edge of relativity.

It took Spencer a minute to realize that Owen was shaking his shoulder, yawning, asking if he wanted to head out soon. Spencer was a little concerned by how fast Owen was crashing, he had done twice as much coke as Spencer and was somehow tired, but he chalked it up to tolerances.

“I could go now.”

Owen broke out into a grin and kissed Andre on the cheek, thanking him for the shift and the hospitality. Spencer stood off to the side as Owen’s goodbyes continued, waiting patiently for Owen to finish up. 15 minutes later, Owen and Spencer were rushing out of the bar, holding hands and speed walking to Spencer’s car parallel parked in front of the venue.

“I am _so_ glad they didn’t make me close tonight,” Owen said, laughing and letting go of Spencer’s hand to spin around in the warm night air.

“Me too.”

Spencer had a good time that night, and he kept reminding himself that as he sat with Owen in the front of his car, waiting for the AC to kick on before they started driving.

“What do you want for dinner?”

Owen looked up from his phone at Spencer and furrowed his eyebrow. “You can _eat_ right now?”

Spencer realized he wasn’t actually all that hungry- he assumed it was a side effect of the stimulants and shrugged it off. He shook his head as he started to pull out of his parking space, Owen playing with the stereo again. Spencer never set up his car radio (he usually listened to audiobooks when he drove anyways), so Owen was on his own as he navigated through the FM frequency band. He tuned into the local college station and turned up the volume, overtaking Spencer’s ears with some sad indie-rock single.

“Your place or mine?”

“Can you drop me off at mine?”

Spencer looked over at Owen in the passenger seat, chair tilted back and his feet on the dashboard.

“Yeah, sure.”

In the month Spencer and Owen had been seeing each other, Owen had become a staple in Spencer’s daily routine. The two of them had hardly gone 12 hours without talking since they had first met. Their relationship came easy to the two of them like they should’ve been in each other’s lives longer than they had been.

“Are you sure you aren’t hungry?”

Spencer was back to thinking about those comped drinks Owen had gotten him, and how he was going to be up for the next few hours at least grading papers.

“Are you buying?”

Spencer snorted as he turned on his turn signal, merging into a turning lane and heading onto the next main street. It was relatively early in Boston, only midnight on a Saturday night.

“Any requests?”

“Hmmmm…” Owen thought for a minute in the passenger seat for a second before shaking his head. “I feel like I’m 19 again, though. Can you roll with that?”

“I think two years ago I was eating off the Taco Bell vegan menu on nights out.”

Spencer laughed, thinking back to his first year in Boston, and how he spent it driving across the city every night he couldn’t sleep. He used to see people pouring out of bars at last call, and he was realizing that he might’ve seen Owen on one of those nights. Here Spencer was, almost two years later on the other side of it all, being in the crowd kicked out when the bars shut down.

“How long have you been vegan?”

“I’m not, but I lived in California for 6 years.” Spencer offered, turning into the Taco Bell drive-thru. “What do you want?”

“Order for me?”

Owen was still feeling flirty, even if he was crashing faster than he wanted to. He blamed it on the extra drinks he had been sneaking his entire shift, and how little coffee he drank this morning. Plus, he didn’t take any Ritalin today or yesterday, so his body was a little desperate for uppers at this point.

Spencer took control and handled the drive-thru window as Owen ogled him. There was something Owen found so fascinating about him, even when he was leaning out of his car window ordering fourth meal on their way home from a night out. Owen listened to the worker read back Spencer’s order- 2 $5 boxes, 2 cheesy potato burritos, 2 cheesy gordita crunches (sub beans), 2 medium Baja Blasts, and an order of nachos please, oh and also an extra Crunch wrap.

“That sounds like a lot.”

“Trust me,” Spencer said as he pulled up to the window to pay “I’ve had my fair share of Taco Bell orders.”

Owen tried to hand Spencer a handful of singles from his wallet, but Spencer pushed them aside, handing the worker his debit card instead. Owen pouted until Spencer handed him his drink, quickly followed by the bag and a handful of hot sauce packets. Spencer parked in the Taco Bell parking lot, keeping the radio playing for Owen’s sake.

“You did a good job at ordering for me.” Owen said, bumping Spencer’s cup with his own.

“I told you, I’m pretty experienced with this.”

Spencer looked pretty in the neon glow of the Taco Bell. Owen couldn’t tell if it was the aftereffects of the drugs he had done earlier or something genuine, but he was pretty sure Spencer was _the one_. There was something about the way that his face caught the light that made him look angelic, and he was talking about his times in undergrad with the passion for life Owen wished he had. Owen wasn’t sure he was talking before the words fell out of his mouth.

“What?”

Spencer had been cut off mid-sentence and didn’t process what Owen had said to him. His question was genuine, and he asked it with a mouth full of cheesy gordita crunch.

“I love you.”

As soon as Owen had said it again, all he could think about was how much he loved Spencer. He loved their conversations and the time they spent together. Owen loved the magic tricks Spencer would do to him when they were half-drunk in bed together, and how Spencer would forget to text him back for 36 hours because he was too busy reading Soviet Psychological theory in the original Russian.

“I love you too?”

Spencer said the words like they were a question, but he didn’t mean it that way. He did love Owen, but the philosophy of love wasn’t a conversation the two of them had had yet. Spencer was mostly confused about the point of _how_ Owen loved him because Spencer knew how he loved Owen. Spencer loved Owen the same way he loved Saturday mornings, the poetry his mother had read to him as a child, and skipping stones in creeks. They felt easy, natural like they should be a part of him.

Owen crossed the space between them quickly and kissed Spencer softly in the dark car. It was tender, almost chaste, but Spencer knew exactly how Owen loved him after.

For the rest of their night together, all Spencer could think about was how Owen loved him. He dropped Owen off at his apartment after 1 am, and his drive home after was nearly silent.

 _Somebody loves me_.

Spencer had felt alone for a long time - institutionalizing his mother was the best choice to make but it was the hardest thing Spencer had ever done. He was already living in California when his mother starting living at Bennington, but when Spencer made the move to Boston at 19 he was struck with how _lonely_ he felt most of the time. Daily letters to his mother and classroom interactions only went so far, and Spencer had been slow to settle on the East Coast. Introducing himself to Owen had been a shot in the dark, Spencer trying to make friends, and now _somebody loved him_.

When Spencer fell asleep that night, he dreamed warm dreams, full of sunshine and smiling faces. 


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi friends! I've been working super hard to write this while also trying to facilitate my move across the country, so there's been a bit of a delay in getting this to you, but here it is!

Summer slipped into fall, and Owen and Spencer kept going on dates. Spencer liked their dates- he liked going out with Owen, holding hands in public, ignoring snide comments and side-eyes in favor of memorizing Owen’s curl pattern. The one thing Spencer liked more than dating Owen was running into him on campus.

Spencer rode his bike to work when the weather was nice- his favorite thing about the East Coast was that the seasons changed, even if winter still kicked his ass every year. One day he was biking through campus and Owen was on some green space, throwing a frisbee with an undergrad student. Owen waved, Spencer smiled, and almost lost control of his bike, and when Spencer got back to his grad student office, Owen had emailed him again.

The email had no subject, and this time it was from Owen’s personal account and not his school one. All it said was _you look cute today <3, _but it made Spencer smile more than he had that whole day. It was the little things that made Spencer appreciate his relationship with Owen- the midday text messages and emails they sent each other, their inside jokes and shared interests, the trivia they would tell each other after they had sex.

It was the week before Halloween and Spencer and Owen had plans to go to the psych department Halloween Cocktail Party that weekend. Spencer had high hopes for the party- it was the first department event he was bringing a date to, and both Owen and Spencer loved Halloween, even if Owen was dragging his feet at the thought of going to a school-sponsored party together.

“I don’t want to go as kind-of sexy Kirk and Spock if you aren’t going to be drunk enough to enjoy it!.”

Owen was mostly joking. He was in Spencer’s tiny student office, sprawled out across Spencer’s gross hand-me-down couch, waiting for Spencer to finish reading before they could head out.

“We could always _not_ have sexy costumes.”

“But then it’s harder to appreciate your butt.”

Spencer threw a wadded-up piece of paper from a legal pad at Owen from his desk.

“You don’t appreciate my butt nearly enough.”

“Because it’s not out!”

It was late and Spencer and Owen were mostly alone in Spencer’s office. The two of them hadn’t talked about their _I love you_ moment in the Taco Bell parking lot since it happened, and Owen was itching to bring the subject up. Love was complicated- Owen didn’t need to be a PhD candidate in psychology to know that. Owen’s idea of love pretty free-spirited, he loved Spencer, sure, but Owen usually told people he loved them after the sixth date. He didn’t know how to tell Spencer that sure, he loved him, but Owen also loved his regular barista wholeheartedly. It was hard to bring that up, but Owen didn’t want Spencer blindsided by their relationship in the near future- they hadn’t even had the boyfriend talk yet, let alone the philosophical conversation about what love meant.

Spencer read fast especially with somebody waiting on him, and the two grad students were heading out of the Social Engineering building within 10 minutes of their costume talk. Owen was spitting out alternate ideas to somewhat-sexy Star Trek costumes while Spencer walked his bike alongside him. They were planning on parting ways when they reached Owen’s car, mostly because there was no way they were going to fit Spencer’s bike in Owen’s backseat.

“I think we’re overthinking this,” Spencer offered when they reached the parking garage. “We can be Kirk and Spock but we could just _not_ be sexy.”

“But where’s the fun?” Owen laughed and kissed Spencer on the cheek as they walked, sneaking his arm around Spencer’s waist. “We’re young, we’re fit, we might as well spend Halloween in short-shorts and body glitter.”

“I think we might have different definitions of fun.”

It turns out, Spencer’s bike did fit in Owen’s backseat, even if Spencer had to sit in the passenger seat with his knees pressed against the glove box. The conversation switched to _how_ Spencer was so fit- Owen had never seen him run, or lift weights, and biking a mile and a half to work twice a week didn’t explain how firm his quads were.

“I’m always pacing around my office when I’m reading, and I used to go on runs to give my brain time to process what I’ve read.”

Spencer explained this like it was, well, astrophysics to Owen, who was making his way through the dregs of Boston’s rush hour traffic, melted Dunkin’ iced coffee in hand and his left foot up on the seat. For once, there was no music playing, just Spencer explaining his workout routine in detail.

“So, you run? When?”

“This past week, usually for about half an hour around 4 am, usually. It’s super quiet, too! On average I run into somebody about every week and a half, and there’s typically pretty nice weather out.”

Owen looked over at Spencer in the passenger seat- the genius who picked up a chemical engineering degree for fun when he was 15, fluent in however many languages and well versed in most literature published in all of those languages. Of course, he was a runner.

Spencer laughed from his cramped seat in the car.

“I’m not particularly good,” Spencer added as he shifted in his seat, “I think my best mile time was 9:45, and my average is somewhere around 11:02.”

“You think?”

“I don’t mind rounding.”

Owen rolled his eyes and turned onto Spencer’s street. He didn’t usually see it in the daylight, but it was early enough that Owen could really see the neighborhood. It was pretty typical, honestly, and Owen was a little disappointed Spencer’s home didn’t have more character.

“Still, you’re hot. You should show it off more.”

Owen winked at Spencer and Spencer reached out for Owen’s hand.

“So how sexy is somewhat-sexy?”

Owen laughed as he parked in front of Spencer’s building, the car still running as the two of them sat there.

“Whatever you’re comfortable with!” Owen was trying to ease Spencer into his body-positivity rhetoric slowly, but he still had an agenda to push. “But I do think you’d look cute in those little running shorts I _know_ you have now.”

Spencer’s cheeks flushed as he kissed Owen, effectively shutting him up.

“We’ll see.”

The two of them had only planned for Owen to drop Spencer off, but as usual, there were dinner plans made before Spencer had the chance to open the passenger door. Their night had to stop there, though, Spencer stressed as he pulled his bike out of the backseat. Spencer was giving a talk in the morning and Owen was perpetually behind on his lab notebook. It didn’t take Spencer long to take his bike up to his apartment before the two of them were off to dinner at their new favorite spot.

It was a place they loved because they were grad students- perpetually broke, hungover, or about to get drunk. The neon sign above the entrance read _China Buffet_ , and dinner was $8.99 (plus tip). Spencer and Owen had been there three times in the past month- talking through their research problems over endless bowls of wonton soup. They got a corner booth and Spencer ordered a beer and a Sprite before he had sat down.

“Both?” Owen laughed as he struggled to take his jacket off sitting down. “Didn’t your card decline at the vending machine yesterday?”

“I got paid today!”

Owen furrowed his brow in the booth.

“I didn’t get paid today?”

“Oh, I do some … tutoring I guess? In my time off.” Spencer explained, pulling Owen out of the booth and towards the buffet. “I teach de-escalation techniques sometimes.”

That wasn’t an answer that satisfied Owen, why was Spencer qualified to teach de-escalation techniques? Who was he teaching them to? When did Spencer have time off? He waited until the two of them were sitting back down, digging into their first plate of the night.

Spencer went into a lot of detail as he explained, answering all of Owen’s questions and then some. He taught de-escalation techniques to security guards around town at a reduced rate. Spencer couldn’t charge them that much- he was an unlicensed grad student giving them psychological training, but it was really more about the ideology for him.

“When I first had to commit my mom, I went to visit her the summer before my last year of undergrad. I know my mom is a lot to deal with, and I know that mental health institutions are historically underfunded and overcrowded, but seeing my mom drugged up because nobody could calm her down really pissed me off.”

Owen had never seen Spencer mad before, and he didn’t like it very much. Spencer’s cheeks were flushed red and he was holding his fork and knife so hard his knuckles were turning white. Slowly, Owen reached out and took Spencer’s hand in his own on the Formica tabletop, squeezing it tight.

“When I came to Boston, I had a month and a half before my program started. I decided to do some independent research on de-escalation methods and techniques and now I … charge security guard unions $100 for a training session.”

It wasn’t long before Spencer was talking about something else, pushing the Sprite towards Owen as he complained about chopsticks, but Owen couldn’t get the image of Spencer mad out of his mind. Seeing Spencer, somebody usually so calm and collected, so worked up made Owen mad on his behalf, and feeling so wrapped up in how Spencer felt made Owen’s heartache.

“I love you, you know?”

Owen was the first one to say it again, but this time he knew he was doing it. Spencer smiled at him from across the table.

“I know. I love you too.”

“Are you my boyfriend?”

Spencer froze when Owen said the words out loud- fork full of rice halfway to his mouth.

“Is this a test?”

“I just-” Owen couldn’t get the words out of his mouth fast enough, and he was tripping over them as he tried to speak, “I told you I loved you, which you took very well, even though all we had been doing up until that point is casually dating?”

“Casually?”

Spencer was still eating as Owen tried to figure out what he wanted to say.

“I mean, we mostly get drunk together and have sex. But, anyways,”

Owen trailed off, setting his head in his hands. Feelings were very hard to share sometimes, and it had been an _extremely_ long day. He was frustrated with himself, which was the hardest part.

“We were casually dating and then you met my ex-boyfriend, did cocaine for the first time with me and my college friends, and I told you I loved you in a Taco Bell parking lot.”

“And then I dropped you off at your apartment and stayed up for the next four hours grading papers.” Spencer was sitting across from Owen, elbows on the tabletop, looking at him as he drank the rest of his beer.

“Right.”

“And so now you’re asking me if I’m your boyfriend?”

“Yes.”

The last time Spencer had dated was his last year at Caltech. She was a senior art-history major named Caroline who broke up with him the weekend before Spring Break. If he was going off of his past experiences, he would say that he was Owen’s boyfriend- the two of them went on dates, had sex, and met each other’s friends.

Spencer told this to Owen, who listened while he played with his straw wrapper. Owen felt dumb- something he didn’t often feel. He felt like a child again, cheeks turning red and eyes itching as Spencer confirmed that they were, in fact, boyfriends.

“Unless you don’t want to be?”

For Spencer, this whole thing was confusing. Spencer didn’t think there was much of a question, after all the time they had been spending together, the fact that the two of them had a favorite restaurant, and their shared _I love you_ ’s had basically sealed the deal in his mind. There weren’t many times Spencer couldn’t read Owen, but right now he was absolutely mystified by him.

“No, I want to be your boyfriend.” Owen’s tears were threatening to fall, and he didn’t want to wipe at them with the napkin in front of him in case he couldn’t stop them. “I just, I just wanted to make sure that’s what we are.”

Spencer’s go-to way to diffuse a situation was by telling some silly fun fact- did you know MSG got its bad name in a 1968 opinion piece with no scientific backing? Owen didn’t know the fact, and Spencer’s attempt at cheering him up brought him to tears. Owen was quick to tell Spencer that he was totally fine, he was just a crier when he was tired, pushing down the anxiety swirling in his stomach.

. It was easy for Owen to get through their meal together, for him to focus all of his attention on the man across the table from him: his _boyfriend_. Spencer was all too happy to move on- his mind was half-occupied with a case study response Spencer had graded earlier, and he was happy to distract Owen by rambling on about it.

The two of them talked through three more plates of Chinese food as Spencer worked through 3 more beers. He was pleasantly tipsy as he shared a plate of desserts with Owen, picking all of the chocolate pastries off of the plate and leaving the rest for Owen.

Owen was back to trying to talk Spencer into the somewhat-sexy Halloween costumes, and Spencer was somewhat more receptive now that he wasn’t sober.

“You know, I do have a nice butt,” Spencer said, stealing a piece of pineapple out of Owen’s hands. “But I don’t know if I want my advisor to know that.”

“Aren’t you friends with your advisor?”

“Not friendly enough to have him know I have a nice butt.”

“Would your advisor ever stare at your ass?”

Owen waved his chopsticks in Spencer’s face as he asked the question, tapping Spencer on the nose with them before picking up the last pastry.

“Probably not, but I don’t want to chance it.”

The waitress came by to clear off their table and set the check down on the table. Spencer was quick to pull out his wallet and pay, in cash no less, while telling the waitress she was ‘absolutely gorgeous according to the facial proportions governed by beauty standards’, which was an incredibly smooth line for an intoxicated Spencer, even if he meant it in a strictly business sort of way. The waitress smiled at Spencer, and when she came back with the receipt and Spencer’s change, she had written her number on the bottom of the receipt with a heart and a smiley face.

Owen laughed when Spencer showed him in the car. Spencer didn’t realize that he had been flirting with the waitress, apparently, and he also was pretty confused that he had gotten propositioned on a date with his boyfriend. Meanwhile, Owen liked seeing Spencer confused, nose scrunched up and eyebrows furrowed as he looked over the receipt.

“You should call her, you know. She was pretty cute.”

“What?”

“Wasn’t she? Cute, I mean.”

Once again, Spencer was convinced this was some sort of test he was supposed to be able to pass. His boyfriend, who he was in love with, was encouraging him to call this woman who had slipped him her phone number. Spencer’s last girlfriend had gotten into a yelling match with him at a house party once just for bumping into a girl.

“Yes? But why would I call her?”

“I dunno, sex? Take her out on a picnic date? To ask her if she can teach you how to roller skate?”

Owen said it like it was an obvious answer as he fiddled with his stereo settings. He was proposing an open relationship, something Spencer was conceptually aware of but was a little intimidated by.

“And you _want_ me to do this?”

“Only if it’s what you want.”

Spencer laughed it off, “Why would I call that waitress when I have you right here? I’m currently _very_ satisfied with our relationship.”

After Owen dropped Spencer off and they actually said goodbye, Owen’s night was uneventful. Spencer sent him a few text messages through the night as he sobered up and got to work, plus a picture of a huge stack of essays Spencer was supposed to be grading. Owen was happy his night’s work largely consisted of organizing his lab notebook as he could get intoxicated himself.

The thought of an open relationship with Spencer wasn’t something that had even crossed Owen’s mind before now, but it made sense. When Spencer was still tipsy, he sent Owen a sociology article about the practicalities of open relationships in the Marxist tradition. Owen was, after all, a sucker for Marxist literature.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed! I'm on an Amtrak right hnow for another four hours, so hopefully I'll make some progress on the next chapter for this! I have a lot of stuff writen about later (chronologically) in the story, so hopefully as I fill in the gaps between scenes I'll be able to post more often! Love you all! If there's anything you want me to know in regards to this story ( or anything else) please dm me!  
> xoxoxo  
> guccipherous


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi friends!
> 
> here's the next chapter! i'm super happy to be alive rn and i also went and bought some halloween decorations today, so here's this! hope you enjoy!
> 
> content warning for vomiting, btw! it's the italicized part ~2/3 of the way through!

Halloween was fun, even if Spencer didn’t end up wearing the very short shorts Owen bought him to the department party. Halloween was Spencer’s favorite holiday, which was something Owen could enjoy. Spencer also talked Owen out of chaps as part of his costume, even if they were over pants.

“I just don’t think this is really the costume party crowd,” Spencer said, watching Owen as he looked at different wigs at Spirit Halloween.

“Spencer, listen.” Owen turned around to face him, holding two different cheap wigs in his hand. “If this is your favorite holiday, let’s go all out. The worst thing that happens is that we drive up, realize we’re overdressed, and then go back home and change. Or, we could go to the Rocky Horror showing I was telling you about.”

“You know, I do love seeing a good shadow cast.”

Spencer stuck his hands in his pockets, thinking over Owen’s statement. It was true, a slightly too-scandalous Halloween costume wasn’t really something he was all that worried about, but he still didn’t like standing out that much in his academic life. For this first time in a while, Spencer had a private life that he wanted to keep secret. He didn’t want his entire department to know about the line of purple hickeys that dotted Spencer’s collarbones, or the freckles he had on the back of his thighs.

“Well, don’t get your hopes up, babe! I’m planning on having a _great_ time with you and your advisor.”

The thought of Owen partying with Spencer and Dr. Hummel was enough to make Spencer break into a smile, picking the wig out of Owen’s left hand and looking it over.

“I think the other one might be better,” Spencer pointed at the packaging of the _90’s Boy Band Singer_ wig. “This one doesn’t look as good.”

“I think you’re right.”

Owen kissed Spencer's cheek quickly, in the aisle of Spirit Halloween. They were alone in the store except for the workers, and Owen trusted a group of twenty-something goth kids to not be homophobic. Spencer was quick to glance around the store before kissing Owen back.

The rest of their afternoon was decently uneventful, Spencer sitting on Owen’s floor grading essays and Owen plowed through writing up his most recent problem set. This one was around 40 pages and Owen still had one more problem to write up.

“You know, I could write that up for you.”

Spencer was watching Owen from his spot on the living room floor, watching Owen rub his eyes as he tried to make sense of his 3 am algebra. It was cute, seeing Owen so wrapped up in his work.

“Mmm, that’s true but then I have to read the papers from your seminar, and I haven’t taken a psychology class since my junior year of high school.”

“I can think of a few other ways for you to get me back.”

Owen rolled his eyes from his spot at his desk.

“If you keep saying things like that, I won’t finish writing this up in time and I won’t be able to go with you to the party. And then you’ll be a sexy Spock all alone.”

“Oh please, no! Not me, my department, and the shorts and fishnet combo.”

That got a laugh out of Owen, and he finally looked up from his work at Spencer. Spencer had on his glasses, the readers he kept in his bag “for emergencies” and his hair was long enough to curl up by his ears. He looked almost angelic in the light of the setting sun, and Owen made sure to tell him that.

“And I’m the distraction?”

“Yes!”

Spencer laughed at that and sat up from his spot on the floor. He was quick to stretch out in an attempt to realign his spine, and a loud _crack_ rang through the apartment. It was no use trying to get work done at this point, both Owen and Spencer had made a dent in their workloads, and they were both running thin on patience.

“Dinner?”

Owen looked back into the kitchen and then towards Spencer. “Sure, if you want to help cook.”

“I love to cook!”

Spencer washed his hands and Owen rooted through his fridge, pulling out a handful of tomatoes and an onion, handing them off to Spencer as he kept surveying his kitchen. Soon, everything that was needed for a quick pasta dinner was on the counter, with Spencer in charge of cutting vegetables while Owen looked through his cassette tape collection for the perfect music for the mood.

Owen picked the soundtrack for _The Decline of Western Civilization_ , and soon Black Flag was filling the kitchen as Spencer rattled off fun facts about tomatoes.

“They used to think tomatoes were poisonous because they were served on pewter plates, and the tomatoes just transferred the lead from the plates to the people eating them.”

Spencer was not, in fact, a good cook, which became apparent the longer he stood in Owen’s kitchen. It was obvious that Spencer’s idea of cooking was doing all Owen’s prep work, then leaning against the counter as he drank red wine straight from the bottle, while Owen cooked. It wasn’t a bad system- Owen hated cutting vegetables and appreciated the company while he stirred tomatoes in the pot.

“Also, the tomato is the state fruit of Ohio, the state vegetable of New Jersey, and the state fruit _and_ state vegetable in Arkansas.”

“Now that’s sexy.”

Owen’s comment was more about the way Spencer was posing in his kitchen, but Spencer took it as a cue to rattle off more fun facts about tomatoes. Owen never would’ve thought somebody reciting an encyclopedia entry from memory would be so appealing, but Spencer’s tipsy interpretation on the biological classification of fruit was music to his ears as he cooked dinner.

Spencer, already drunk before he ate, was excited about the Halloween party. He spent most of the dinner giving Owen an overview of the physics of Star Trek while Owen finished writing up his problem set. The two of them had decided to walk, and Owen was surprised by Spencer’s insistence that they take shots before they walk over.

“If I’m going to show the professor emeritus that my legs are shaved, tanned, and covered in fishnets then I’m not trying to remember it,” Spencer said, pouring Owen a double of whatever rum he had found in the cabinet. “Plus, Halloween is my favorite holiday. I deserve to celebrate.”

Owen couldn’t argue with that and took the shot quick as Spencer drank his own. The two of them were half-dressed at this point, and Spencer’s bare chest was covered with a fine layer of glitter, and Owen was standing in fishnets, shorts, and his boots in the kitchen.

“If you throw up what do you want me to do?”

“Take me home? Leave me in my office?” Spencer was rooting around the liquor cabinet for the flask Owen swore he had. “I don’t know- let’s hope it doesn’t happen.”

Owen shook his head as he lit a cigarette- a holdover from his undergrad days. He had opened up the window in his kitchen earlier, and Spencer turned around to see him blowing smoke out of the window.

“You know, every cigarette takes 7 minutes off your life.”

Owen rolled his eyes as Spencer poured them two more shots, this time with the bottle of bourbon he had found in the depths of the cabinet.

“And?”

Spencer pulled out a jar of pickles from Owen’s fridge, unscrewing the lid as he thought about what to say.

“That’s one less blowjob I get to give you in a bathroom somewhere.”

Spencer had a point. Owen snuffed out his cigarette as Spencer slid the shot towards him. It was a pickleback, Spencer said.

“Pickle juice has more electrolytes than Gatorade,” Spencer explained before they drank. “The drink has a history in the Southeast, but it was first named at a country club in Bushwick.”

It was a good shot, the pickle juice cutting the burn from their “last” shot before they finished getting ready. Spencer kissed Owen in the kitchen, pickle juice still lingering in his mouth. The two of them were happy in the kitchen- Spencer was a warm kind of drunk, and Owen was more than happy to be along for the ride.

The two of them finished getting dressed before they had time to feel their shots, and Spencer let Owen cradle his head to put on an excessive amount of glitter. Owen talked the Spencer into a few candid shots and a self-timer picture of the two of them holding a _Halloween 2002_ sign Owen had stolen from a bar he was picking up shifts at.

It was a longer walk than they had anticipated- the party was at the house of one of the tenured faculty members, and the loud music outside of the house brought Spencer back to the first party he went to with Owen- somehow only two months ago and still a lifetime away. Owen, on the other hand, was finally feeling the nerves about showing up half-naked to a party full of the social science elite of MIT.

Spencer led the way, pulling Owen towards the front door and greeting the hostess (dressed as a witch) with a hug and a kiss on the cheek.

“Marcie, this is Owen, my boyfriend. He’s a grad student in the physics department.”

Marcie and Owen exchanged pleasantries- she was apparently the only person in the department who could fix the printer without calling the IT Department. Spencer introduced him to everybody that the two of them ran into as they made their way towards the kitchen. Owen poured himself some of the neon green punch while Spencer snagged a Diet Coke out of the fridge. They knocked their drinks together as Spencer opened his drink, foam spilling out of the top of the can and all over his hand. Spencer laughed as he set his can down in the sink, and Owen watched him as he wiped up the spilled Coke with a paper towel.

The party was tame by Owen’s standards. There was one game of beer pong going on between two professor couples, and Owen found the obligatory sad huddle of plus ones in a corner to make conversation with. Spencer, on the other hand, was having a great time talking with his professors and classmates. At one point, Owen found him explaining the physics of playing pong to his advisor, who didn’t even bat an eye at the fishnets and body glitter.

After about an hour, Spencer started drinking again, finishing the cup of punch Owen was sipping on. Owen wasn’t used to punch that wasn’t mostly cheap vodka and didn’t mind Spencer finishing his cup. The two of them kissed in the kitchen as they refilled their drinks, and again in the living room while they danced to the _Monster Mash_.

The two of them were a warm kind of drunk, and Spencer was happy that he and Owen weren’t the only ones in revealing costumes. It was also _so_ nice being at a house party full of people that didn’t mind Spencer’s drunken soliloquies about some social theory. It had been a great night, so when Spencer pulled Owen towards the bathroom, Owen followed without hesitation.

As soon as Owen pulled the door closed behind him, Spencer pulled him close and wrapped his arms around his boyfriend’s waist.

“You know, I think we’ve been here before,” Owen trailed off, brushing the hair off of Spencer’s forehead. “Alone together, in a bathroom.”

“I think we have to.”

Spencer kissed Owen again, laughing into his mouth. Spencer had never been so happy- he was drunk with so many smart, beautiful people, including (but not limited to): his _boyfriend_ , his advisor, and a handful of Nobel Prize Laureates. All while drunk and wearing a delightfully scandalous Star Trek Couples Costume. It was his teenage dream come true.

He couldn’t help but moan into Owen’s mouth, leaning into the kiss. Owen was more than happy to support Spencer, propping the two of them up on his elbow as they continued to make out in the small bathroom.

It happened as fast as lightning.

_Spencer pulled back from Owen and lurched, and Owen had to watch. Spencer had never thrown up from being drunk before- not even in undergrad when he tried to do a case race with one of his friends._

_Spencer heaving over a toilet was a particularly painful sight for Owen to see, and he looked around the bathroom quickly. He grabbed Spencer a Dixie cup of water and some mouthwash, setting it down next to Spencer as he emptied the contents of his stomach into the toilet._

_“You know, usually I’m the one doing this.”_

_Owen couldn’t make out what Spencer said, but it sounded sarcastic. Spencer spit into the toilet and grabbed the mouthwash, rinsing out his mouth and spitting again into the toilet. He got up easy, shutting the lid of the toilet before flushing, and promptly sitting down on top._

_“I think this is the worst I’ve ever felt.”_

_“Well…” Owen trailed off as Spencer drank his Dixie cup of water. Owen’s memories of throwing up drunk were plentiful in his mind, dotting weekends from high school until then. “You can rally. C’mon, get it all out.”_

_Spencer dropped the Dixie cup onto the floor, the empty paper cup rolling under the sink._

_“You want me to do what?”_

_Maybe he was drunk, Spencer thought, too drunk to understand what his boyfriend was suggesting._

_“Throw up again. You’re going to do it now or in 20 minutes, and I’d prefer to not have you puke on me while we’re walking somewhere, okay?”_

_It was a logical request to Spencer- and logic was always his downfall. Owen made sense, and it wasn’t an unfamiliar concept to Spencer. He had lived in a co-ed dorm for 3 years- thin walls meant he heard a lot of loud hallway conversations._

_Plus, Spencer didn’t feel bad after. He felt better, maybe? After the mouthwash and some water, and Owen promising him he would make him brush his teeth when they got home, Spencer emerged from the bathroom, hand in hand with Owen._

A few of the other grad students looked at the two of them exiting the bathroom and broke into laughter, smiling and clapping. Both Spencer and Owen’s cheeks flushed as they waved towards their peers, smiling and laughing a little as well.

It was always easier to leave the party than to show up, especially with the pit forming in Spencer’s stomach. When the two of them finally made it to the street, Spencer looked Owen in the eye and _pouted_. Owen couldn’t help but laugh, wrapping his arm around Spencer’s shoulder as they walked down the street.

“What’s wrong?”

“My stomach hurts!” Spencer said, “And I feel bad for throwing up.”

“Didn’t I throw up last month at a concert?” Owen kissed Spencer’s head as the two of them walked down the street. “At least this time there’s no bathroom attendant listening in.”

“Just a bunch of my classmates thinking I had sex at a department party.”

“And?”

Spencer was quiet after that- he didn’t really mind that his classmates knew he had sex with Owen, especially when he was drunk on his favorite day of the year. Plus, he would rather be a bit of a slut than a lightweight- even now in his PhD program.

Owen promised Spencer a proper brunch in the morning, and he did deliver.

Spencer’s hungover morning was something out of his high school fantasies. He woke up in his bed, tangled in the sheets with his boyfriend, who rushed him through his morning routine to take him out to a “fall brunch” at some yuppie restraint in some “up and coming” restaurant. There were breakfast cocktails and pumpkin pancakes and bottomless coffee, all while wearing his only pair of jeans and a ratty hoodie from his first year of college.

A perfect start to fall- a cold November morning with his bed-headed boyfriend, glitter still smudged under his eyes and a purple hickey peeking out from the collar of his crewneck.

Somehow, Owen was happy with settling down. He was a serial dater- four people in his speed dial at all times. But somehow, after 3 months of dating Spencer, he had _only_ dated Spencer. And he felt happy, fulfilled even, with this domestic life of Friday morning brunches when both of them should’ve been at work an hour ago.

It was something that stuck in Owen’s mind even after he dropped Spencer off at his own apartment, past his drive to work, and the rest of his day at MIT. Spencer sent Owen an email around dinner, a quick-thinking _of you_ message with his _absurdly_ long signature, and all Owen could think about was the way Spencer’s hair curled around his ears.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hope you enjoyed! sad to say my semester is starting a week from today, and i don't know how remote classes will treat me. it's my senior year of college, so i'm dealing w two capstone projects, the gre, and grad school apps :) i feel like i'm in high school again :)))
> 
> thanks for reading! <3


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi friends! i hope ur well! here's what's next! i would also like to be transparent and say that my senior year of college just started, and i'm a month away from turning in my comps, so i don't know how regularly i'll be able to update (although if this summer is any indication i love to write this instead of doing my work)

Spencer had planned to finish his dual degree in three years, an impressive speed for one PhD, let alone two. He had big plans for his life- plans to join the FBI’s Behavioral Analysis Unit before 25, spend some time catching criminals, publishing papers, before eventually settling into academia. He was at the start of his second year when he met Owen, and he didn’t figure in the toll having a social life would have on his ability to plow through the theoretical side of his dissertation in the fall semester.

There was something a lot more appealing about spending time with his boyfriend than reading lit reviews and browsing databases, but Spencer didn’t understand why he was always staying up so late and working such long hours

The week before Thanksgiving the academic pressure caused Spencer’s anxiety to ramp up- he stopped sleeping and couldn’t concentrate. His advisor found him crying in a bathroom four times in three days before forcing him to take time off, but it didn’t help. Spencer’s mind was too wrapped up in trying to get things done as effectively as possible, and Owen had no idea how to help.

52 hours into Spencer’s forced time off, Owen came through the door at 11:30 pm to find Spencer laying on his living room floor, staring at the ceiling fan. Owen threw his bag down on the floor next to Spencer and produced an orange pill bottle with the label pulled off.

“I got you a present.” Owen said, sitting down on the floor next to Spencer and kissing his cheek.

“Oh yeah?” Spencer sat up and looked towards Owen, unable to focus his eyes on his boyfriend. “What is it?”

“Well I was talking to Sarah- the blonde girl who does AMO Physics- about you and she offered to sell me a little something to help get you back on track. It’s Ritalin and Ambien, but if you want Adderall or Vyvanse I can get some of that.”

“Owen, I don’t…” Spencer turned the bottle over in his hands. “I can’t take this.”

“If you don’t I will.” Owen said, the same silly smile on his face “and I’m not the one trying to finish two PhD’s in three years.”

Spencer sighed and rested his head on Owen’s shoulder. He appreciated the gesture, and he knew that the uppers and downers would definitely make these next few days easier, but he had to work out his morals surrounding popping pills in order to be more productive. Spencer had addiction on the back of his mind constantly, especially after picking up some of Owen’s more illicit habits.

Owen kissed the top of Spencer’s head and wrapped his arm around his boyfriends’ shoulders. “What’s the difference between taking it to study and taking it at a party?”

“The ethics, I guess.” Spencer said, rubbing his eyes with the palms of his hands.

“There are ethics in drugs?” Owen asked, pulling a joint out of his pocket with his free hand. “What’s the ethics in you smoking this with me?

Spencer laughed at his boyfriend and laid back down on the floor. “All I’ve done today is smoke pot and bake.”

“And?” Owen pulled a lighter from a pocket and lit the joint, hitting it before handing it off to his boyfriend.

Spencer shrugged and accepted the joint, hitting it. He was still a little high from before, and the familiar feeling of THC hitting his lungs made him smile. Owen couldn’t help but grin- he had turned Spencer into a stoner through exposure, and seeing his boyfriend fully embrace being young made him smile. Spencer carried himself like he was so much older than he was- Owen had taken him to buy his first legal drink on one of their first dates.

“So, what did you do today?”

Owen took the joint when Spencer offered it back to him, the two of them laying down on the living room floor as Owen talked about his day.

“Well, I had to present at lab meeting, which was super fun because I just got to talk about black holes for 45 minutes while we ate Thai food.” Owen laughed as he hit the joint again. “And then I had to teach in the afternoon, which wasn’t awful. We’re doing the nuke labs right now and I love it. Did you know MIT is one of the few universities in the country who have their full nuclear licenses- most schools have to do dice rolling in labs to simulate isotope decay, but we can do the real thing here!”

“Well, that sounds fun!”

Spencer meant it- he was bored in isolation, stuck at home with nothing to do. He was taking time off through the Thanksgiving break, and Owen was nice enough to let him stay with him for the week and a half so he wouldn’t be totally alone. It was nice- domestic and surprisingly easy, even with their completely opposite schedules currently.

“It was! Plus, I got to come home to you!”

Spencer kissed Owen, pulling the two of them to their feet and into the kitchen. Owen was still smoking the joint and handed it off to Spencer once they made it out of the living room.

“I made cookies! And brownies, and also some bread.” Spencer gestured towards the counter, which was heaping with backed goods. “Baking is actually just pretty basic chemistry, so this was a fun way to test my lab skills after taking some time away from it.”

Owen looked over his kitchen and his boyfriend. Spencer with time off was a dangerous weapon, apparently.

“If you’re home all day tomorrow are you going to fix the leak in the sink?” Owen said, grabbing Spencer in a tight hug and kissing his neck. “Because I’ve been meaning to, but I don’t have an engineering degree, so.”

“Oh yeah, exploit my time in STEM, please.” Spencer snorted, “As long as you’re making dinner tonight.”

That was a request Owen was more than happy to fulfill. Spencer sat at the dining room table while Owen cooked, flipping through one of the science fiction novels Owen had left laying around. It was peaceful, quieter than the last time Owen and Spencer cooked dinner together. The only background noise tonight was a Grateful Dead live tape Spencer had picked out. He had been listening to it on repeat all day, and Owen liked the vibes it brought to their evening.

The past few days of having Spencer stay over had been nice- they worked together pretty well and Owen liked having his boyfriend underfoot. It was especially nice when Spencer did the dishes after dinner, letting Owen sit at the table and watch him clean.

“You know, my hair is getting _so_ long,” Spencer said, as he scrubbed a pan clean of the remnants of the pasta dinner Owen had made. “I think I could probably braid it if I wanted to.”

“It looks nice!”

Spencer shrugged at the compliment. He had never gone this long without a haircut before, but the pace of the semester hadn’t left him enough time to go down to Great Clips.

“I’ve never had my hair this long before, not in a long time at least.”

Spencer’s hair was long enough to be falling into his eyes at this point. The shag was well developed, with his hair usually pushed back with a pair of reading glasses Spencer carried around.

“You know, I could cut it for you.”

“You’re an astrophysicist who’s also a two-sport athlete, who’s _also_ a permanent fixture in the local music scene, and you cut hair?”

Spencer laughed as he listed off all of Owen’s accomplishments- aware that if Owen were to read off his it would sound pretty similar.

“How would you cut my hair?”

Spencer was fishing for compliments now- Owen loved a project to work on.

“Do you like it long?”

“I think so. But I don’t like the hair on my neck, you know?”

Owen tilted his head, watching his boyfriend as he finished drying the dishes. “We could just shave down the back and sides then, keep everything on top?”

“You’re saying words but they don’t mean anything to me.”

“It can be long and _also_ not touching your neck!”

Owen was waving his hands around by now, gesturing at the abstract concept of a haircut.

“Alright.” Spencer set down the last dish and turned around to face Owen. “You can cut my hair _if_ I get to complain about my life while you do it.”

“Sure.” Owen shrugged and stood up, grabbing a beer from the fridge before leading Spencer into his small bathroom. “Just promise to sit still on the toilet for me.”

Spencer loved to talk, and he especially loved to complain. Keeping facts straight in his head was hard- they tended to jumble together when he was stressed. But talking about his feelings? Spencer could do that all day.

He was halfway between explaining to Owen why he wanted to join the BAU and the fact it was a total pain in the ass to join the FBI when Owen moved to cut his bangs.

“You know, you might want to stop being a bootlicker while I have these scissors in front of your eyes.”

Owen was half-joking as he drank from the PBR, grabbing a comb out of his pocket to section out his boyfriends’ bangs.

“Bootlicker?”

“Yeah, my Docs are in the living room if you want more. Joining a domestic intelligence agency, a year after a terrorist crisis that the CIA _guaranteed_ by funding extremist cells in the Middle East during the Cold War does make you a bootlicker, hun.”

Spencer was silent as Owen finished cutting his bangs. Owen made a good point- the nationalist motivations for joining the FBI at all, and especially now, couldn’t be ignored. And Owen was right- he didn’t agree with most of the practices of the US government, or the FBI specifically. Spencer knew that he wouldn’t be the one FBI agent to make a difference, but he couldn’t imagine being able to use psychological profiling to help people any other way.

“Are we going to fight about this while you’re cutting my hair?”

“Oh, I’m not fighting with you.” Owen pulled Spencer’s head into his chest as he spoke, getting the hair behind his ears. “I’m just telling you. It’s your life- your choice to make, babe.”

The sound of the scissors cutting through Spencer’s hair sent shivers down his spine.

“I think I’m done? If you wanna look.”

Owen kissed the top of Spencer’s head and stepped back, brushing the hair off of his shirt while sipping his beer. It was a _good_ haircut- it had the right shape and his hair was long enough to curl but short enough to stay out of his eyes. Spencer was sure to thank Owen with a few kisses before he turned on the shower, pulling off his shirt and throwing it down on the ground.

Owen watched Spencer undress- seeing him trip as he stepped out of his pants made him laugh so hard he almost dropped his beer. It wasn’t until Spencer was stepping into the shower that he looked back at Owen, who was still waiting in the bathroom, leaning against the counter.

“Are you coming?”

Owen shrugged and held his drink out to Spencer. “Sure.”

Spencer accepted the beer from Owen’s hand, taking a sip from it before setting it on the lip of the tub. Owen was quick to undress and join his boyfriend in the shower, making sure to bring the beer along with him.

“A shower beer?” Spencer shook his head at his boyfriend sipping a PBR in the shower with him. “I think that crosses a line.”

“Well I mean isn’t this mostly just you showering?” Owen said, taking a sip from his beer. “Aren’t I mostly here to wash your back and look pretty?”

“Yeah, but I don’t think a PBR is the best pairing for that.” Spencer turned around, handing Owen shampoo. “Maybe a crisp white?”

“What do you know about wine pairings?”

“I have a chemistry degree! I think that grants me _some_ knowledge of food science.”

Owen handed Spencer his beer as he poured the shampoo into his hands. As he lathered up Spencer’s hair, Owen thought back to a few days before, when he was having his last shower beer. How much better it was to be drinking in the shower with his boyfriend than alone.

Both Owen and Spencer prided themselves on being quick to settle arguments. They were past their moral difference quickly enough- it wasn’t like Spencer was going to graduate _that_ soon. The two of them settled into their nightly routines after their quick tryst in the shower, and they fell back into their honeymoon bliss. Somehow, Owen liked trudging through grading more with Spencer sitting next to him in the living room.

It wasn’t until the night before Spencer was supposed to head back to his apartment that Owen brought up the subject, asking Spencer when his lease was up.

“I love having you here, Spencer. My lease isn’t up until September, and it _would_ be nice to have somebody to split the rent with.”

“Yeah, remind me how you afford a two-bedroom on our salary? Bartending tip that well?”

“It fills the gap.”

Owen smiled at Spencer from across the dining room table. He reached out and grabbed his boyfriend’s hands, holding him tight. Before he could speak, Spencer cut him off.

“Do you know how long I’ve wanted to say that to you?”

A grin broke out across Owen’s face.

“Well, that’s nice to hear.”

“My lease ends in May, though.” Spencer squeezed Owen’s hand as he spoke. “So, until then I guess I’ll just have to give you a key.”

Owen agreed, Spencer had gotten a key to Owen’s apartment when he had first "moved in" a week ago. When Spencer pulled the key out from behind Owen’s ear, he couldn’t help but laugh.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank u for reading :) every time i get an email from ao3 abt somebody interacting w this fic my self esteem is boosted enough to get me through my zoom classes. also if any of u are near philly/atlantic city please hit me up my roommate and i are both criminal minds obsessed and just moved here!


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi friends!
> 
> so sorry for the delay :/ it has been a Bad Semester
> 
> but I did write, submit, and pass my senior exercises (with distinction!!) since I last uploaded :)

Spencer and Owen’s fall semester had a satisfying end, kissing under the mistletoe at the graduate student Holiday mixer and spending the time between Christmas and New Year’s watching Dr. Who reruns on Owen’s couch.

Even then, somewhere between the first of the year and the start of the semester, Spencer found himself trapped under his blankets, unable to get out of bed.

Maybe it was the way his heater stopped working at 3 a.m. some nights, or the fact that he couldn’t run outside in the slush without giving himself frostbite in his toes. Maybe it was the fact that Owen had gone to Vancouver with one of his friends from college, and the only person Spencer had talked to was his mother through the letters he sent her.

It was lonely, sure, but Spencer didn’t know what else to do with himself.

Spencer stared at the wall until he drifted off to sleep, waking up with a start in the middle of the night. His alarm clock read 4:32 am, and it was January 4th. 2003. Spencer was in his bed, in his apartment, in Boston, Massachusetts. Owen was in another country, three hours behind.

He sat up in bed. Spencer _hated_ his cell phone, but the landline on his bedside table had Owen’s cell phone number on speed dial. Owen was _so close_ , but Spencer couldn’t get himself to pick up the phone and call him.

Spencer just _sat_ there, heart racing, eyes focused on his landline until the sun started shining into his eyes three hours later. Another day, another book Spencer would put up and lose focus halfway through. He pushed himself up out of bed, exhausted but unable to lie down any longer. There were three days before the semester started back up- before he would return to 12-hour days in his poorly-lit office, reading academic papers over pots of black coffee as he tried to ignore the stress of his post-graduation life.

Somehow, Spencer found himself rolling back over to face the window, looking out at the slush-covered street below him. Spencer had no idea who he was outside of a classroom, and his advisor was a little pissed at him for not submitting his thesis this year. He was putting off graduating, pushing it off even though he knew his grant funding would run out in 18 months.

“Ugghhhh.”

He glanced down at his watch- 9 am already?

What was the harm in going back to bed? It was Spencer’s time off, and God knows he didn’t get nearly enough vacation days.

When classes started back up the next Monday, Spencer couldn’t focus on the papers strewn across his desk. Owen loved the start of a new semester- new lab notebooks and research students, new grants to apply for, and conferences coming up. Spencer, on the other hand, absolutely dreaded the first day of class- standing up in front of 27 undergrad students still terrified him, 2 years into his PhD program. By 3 pm, Spencer had locked himself in his office, planning on reading some new journal articles that had come out over the winter break.

Spencer’s productivity lasted about 25 minutes before he started checking his email out of boredom. Maybe he should take Owen up on that Adderall.

There was a new email at the top of his inbox- a mass job posting for all PhD students in the social sciences. Spencer usually skipped over them- he wasn’t looking for a job and the thought of leaving MIT made his chest tight. In an effort to avoid the 50-page article on his desk, Spencer opened the email.

**FBI Accepting Applications- Competitive Benefits, Salary, and Location**

Spencer thought back to the last conversation he had with Owen about the United States government, and Spencer was inclined to agree with his boyfriend. There was something in the air, too much tension in the Middle East.

Spencer clicked the link anyway.

There was a long list of departments looking for new agents, and Spencer was beyond annoyed that it wasn’t alphabetized. He skimmed the list as quick as he could, looking for the three letters that would draw him in.

The BAU was looking for 2 field agents.

Spencer couldn’t believe his luck- this _was_ his dream. The application was surprisingly short, too. And what were the odds that they would accept him- he didn’t even have his PhD yet. He submitted the application 20 minutes before Owen texted him asking if he wanted to get dinner.

* * *

“Spencer, I’m proud of you and I love you but I don’t want to talk about this, okay. Please, just tell me more about how you can use fractals in your research.”

Spencer rolled his eyes at Owen from across the kitchen.

“Would it kill you to be nice to me?”

Spencer was three glasses of wine in by now, and he was angry. He wasn’t mad at Owen, or his advisor, or anything he could place.

Owen turned around from the counter, apron tied around his waist with a chef’s knife in his hand. “I’ve told you _how_ many times that I don’t want to hear your US Government propaganda?”

“Seven, eight if you’re counting right now.”

“And you’re picking a fight with me for having to say it an eighth time.”

Spencer was silent for a moment before finishing his glass of wine.

“Spencer, what’s wrong? You’ve been acting strange since New Year’s.”

Owen wasn’t looking at Spencer while he waited for a response- if there was one thing he knew it was that Spencer hated people watching him.

“I’m fine, I’m just running the clock out on my PhD program and I’ve never _not_ been in school before- I started kindergarten when I was _three_ for fuck’s sake! I have no idea what I’m doing with my life, or even what I want to do, and it’s so _hard_ to just exist when you don’t even want to go to work.”

Owen turned back around, set down his knife, and wordlessly poured Spencer a glass of water.

“Spencer, baby, you’re 21. Every 21-year-old realizes this, but usually they’re a senior in college and not finishing a PhD. You’ll be fine- you’re a genius and if you want to spend the rest of your life getting advanced degrees I’m sure nobody will stop you for at least another 10 years.”

“Really?”

“Yes.” Owen kissed the top of Spencer’s head gently. “Now tell me about the fractals.”

* * *

Spencer’s mental breakdown was as easy as sitting down in the Career Planning Office and talking to some lady named Liza about his life plans. Liza assured Spencer that he could get just about any job he applied for, and that is was totally normal to feel like you were spiraling out of control when you were 21. Spencer walked out of the student union feeling better about his future, and when Owen called his office phone asking if Spencer wanted to go to happy hour, Spencer pushed his minor crisis out of his mind.

* * *

Two weeks later, Spencer rolled out of bed two hours after his alarm went off. He was hungover- unusual for a Tuesday morning. Spencer realized how was lucky he didn’t have any classes to teach on Tuesdays or Thursdays when he threw up in the shower twenty minutes later. The stomach bile in his mouth didn’t taste like regret- just like the 7 vodka cranberries he had drank last night at the Thirsty Horse.

In Spencer’s defense, they were 2 for 1.

He stumbled into work half an hour later, sipping Gatorade in his coffee cup and planning on a quiet day of “reading” in his office with the lights off and the door locked. Spencer was surprised to see mail in his cubby in the social sciences office, and he took off his sunglasses to flip through the mail as he walked to his office.

There was a new issue of Psychology Monthly, but none of the articles were that appealing. A stack of ungraded essays, but Spencer knew those were coming. There was a heavy envelope with his name typed out in front that Spencer couldn’t wait to rip open.

With the letter opener he kept in his office, Spencer tore open the thick envelope, shaking out the letter inside. He read the letter quickly, then again- making sure he wasn’t hallucinating. An offer to interview for the FBI Academy- a week-long process where Spencer would be physically and mentally pushed to the edge to see how capable he would be as a field agent.

* * *

“Owen, I need to talk to you.”

Spencer was standing in the doorway of Owen’s home “office”, where Owen was laying on the floor, scribbling math equations on a clipboard. Owen had been engrossed in a derivation for the most part of the past 48 hours, and Spencer had just broken his Vyvanse-induced focus.

“Hm?” Owen looked up from his notebook, eyes blurring as he tried to focus his eyes on Spencer. “What’s going on?”

“Do you remember when I applied for that position at the BAU? Two weeks ago- you said there’s no way they’d accept me midway through my thesis, but I should try anyway.”

“Yes?”

Owen looked at Spencer, harder. He was either smiling or grimacing- he couldn’t tell.

“They want me to go down to DC to interview for the position. On Monday.”

“Oh my god!” Owen sprung up from his chair and wrapped his arms around Spencer’s neck. “Are you going to do it?”

“I think so- I mean they’re offering to fly me out to interview, and expedite my pension. And they’ll pay for us to relocate, Owen- it’s all in the offer.”

Owen stepped back and Spencer handed him the letter he was holding, but Owen still couldn’t process anything that wasn’t a Ricci Tensor in front of him. He could make out the words _competitive offer_ and _immediate response needed_ , but not much else.

“Are you going to do it?”

Owen repeated the question, and Spencer sighed.

“I don’t know,” Spencer squeezed Owen’s hand tight. “I want to, but I don’t know if I can just walk away for a week to do five rounds of interviewing for a job I don’t really want.”

“Spencer…” Owen trailed off, looking at his boyfriend and also his half-finished derivation. “Can we talk about this in the morning? Or, at least in like an hour? I’m looking at and all I see is Greek letters floating around.”

“Am I an alpha or an omega?”

“You’re definitely a Xi,” Owen said, pressing a kiss into the side of Spencer’s head. “And you definitely shouldn’t consider what your boyfriend thinks when you’re chasing your dream job. Even if I think you’re selling out to the worst bidder.”

* * *

Even if Owen _hated_ the idea of Spencer starting a job in the FBI, he still made sure his boyfriend’s hair was cut and his tie matched his belt. Spencer was catching the first flight into DC Monday morning, renting a car, and driving to his interview at 9 am. If everything went well, he’d rent a hotel room and do a second round of interviews and be back in Boston by 8pm on Thursday, just in time to catch a showing of _Good-Bye Lenin!_

Spencer was a ball of nervous energy when Owen dropped him off at the airport and hadn’t managed to calm down by the time his plane landed a few short hours later. The FBI had arranged for his rental car, and Spencer had spent the past twenty minutes working through every possible scenario where this went horribly wrong.

Somehow, Spencer made it through the rental car line and was speeding down I-95 South when his cell phone rang. Spencer _hated_ his cell phone- he hated all technology because he couldn’t understand how it worked, but he still had one. It was the cheapest possible option, with the fewest minutes and the clunkiest flip phone on the market, but here it was ringing all the same.

“Hello?”

Spencer answered it, resting it between his shoulder and his ear as he turned his eyes back towards the road.

“Hey!”

Owen’s voice sounded happy on the other end of the line, and Spencer wanted to believe that he could hear his smile over the phone.

“Hey yourself. What’s going on? I’m driving to Quantico right now.”

“I’m just getting to campus now. It’s weird- you being so far away.”

Spencer felt his face heat up at Owen’s words.

“I know, I miss you too.”

Owen was quiet on the other end- if Spencer had to guess he was probably taking a drag from a cigarette.

“So, you’ll be back on Saturday?”

“At the absolute latest.”

“Well alright then. I’ll try to manage until then.”

After a quick goodbye, Spencer snapped shut his flip phone and tossed it onto the passenger seat.

* * *

Owen didn’t like the fact that Spencer didn’t call him when he got to Quantico. Owen especially didn’t like the fact that he made it through the rest of his Monday routine before Spencer called him as he was driving home from MIT.

“Hello?”

“Can you pick me up?”

Owen’s heart fell into his stomach.

“From where?”

“The airport. In about an hour.”

“Sure.” Owen paused. “Do you want to talk about it.”

“No.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hope u enjoyed! i am nearing the end of this fic, i think, but who knows. see u soon (hopefully ) <3


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> fun fact I literally only update this fic when my friend comes to visit me. thank u so much for reading this! means a lot to me <3

Spencer didn’t look _mad_ when he stepped into the car, but he didn’t exactly look happy. Owen couldn’t get a read on him as his boyfriend buckled his seatbelt, driving out of the airport and back towards Spencer’s apartment.

“Where do you want to go?”

“What?”

“Do you want to go home? Or come to my place? Or maybe we could get dinner-”

“I haven’t eaten all day.” Spencer paused as he looked down at his watch, and then at the dark skies above them. “Or maybe since last night. I don’t think I ate breakfast this morning.”

“Anything special?”

“The Mexican place by your apartment- the one with the pitchers of margaritas?”

It was _that_ kind of night, apparently.

“I can do that. Do you want to play music?”

Owen reached over Spencer’s lap and opened the glove compartment of his car, pulling out a handful of CDs.

“They’re new- I just went to the store before I got you. Marley put them on backorder- you remember him, don’t you?”

“That’s a silly question- I have an eidetic memory, I remember everybody I meet.”

Spencer squeezed Owen’s hands and took the stack of CD’s from him. Spencer flipped through the plastic cases, some Sleater-Kinney (a name Spencer knew), A Grateful Dead live set from somewhere in Wisconsin, and some demo tape from a band on a New Jersey indie label. 

“Marley’s roommate from art school moved out to New Jersey- apparently he married rich out there- and so he works part-time at this recording studio? And he sent Marley this sampler of everything they recorded last year and Marley remembered when I went to New York for that concert in November? At that bar you hated?”

“It wasn’t a bar, Owen- it wasn’t licensed! It was somebody’s art studio with a keg and a stage-”

“And there was that opener I really liked- but that’s their demo. Marley found it for me! Isn’t that nice?”

“Yeah, real nice.”

Spencer flipped through the CD’s again before playing the demo tape. It wasn’t bad- Spencer had to admit it sounded better than a lot of the bands he had sat through with Owen.

When Owen pulled into the parking lot, Spencer was quick to unbuckle his seatbelt. Owen grabbed his arm until he had parked the car.

“That excited to leave me?”

“I know, I know, I missed you so much baby, but honestly, I’m only thinking about neon blue margaritas and chicken tostadas.”

Spencer held true to his promise and didn’t talk to Owen about his interview until they were two baskets of tortilla chips in. Spencer was sipping on his margarita, lips stained blue, when the words just started falling out of his mouth.

“Apparently, you have to be 23 to work for the FBI. Which is not something they catch in the application, the first background check, or the first interview.”

“And then you’re being yelled at in the cafeteria in Quantico because they think you’re some fucking _terrorist_ or something just because they didn’t think they would have somebody under 23 apply for a position that requires a PhD.”

Owen had absolutely no idea what to say to Spencer, but his boyfriend didn’t mind. Spencer shrugged at Owen as he reached for his water, seemingly unbothered by the story he was telling.

“It worked out fine, I guess, once they realized they were the ones who fucked up on letting me get this far. They still cut me from the pool though- I’m too young and I haven’t actually finished my PhD. The lady who told me did say to apply again, though, and I know they always tell you that but it felt _good_ , you know?”

Owen nodded along with Spencer’s retelling of his day, which didn’t seem all _that_ strange in the scheme of weird things the two of them had done together. Spencer and Owen had driven to Niagara Falls together the day after Christmas on a whim- a 7-hour drive through January snow just because Spencer had never seen it before. A 2 hour round trip flight for a shitty job interview was _nothing_.

Plus, now Owen didn’t have to break up with Spencer. Or, that’s what Owen told Spencer when he was driving his drunk boyfriend home after dinner.

“You would really break up with me if I started working for the FBI?”

Owen, with two hands on the steering wheel, knew he had fucked up.

“But you aren’t- and you aren’t going to for 18 months _at least_. So, we don’t have to worry about it.”

Maybe Spencer was drunk and tired and _angry,_ but he wanted to start a fight.

“But you’re going to break up with me if I follow my dreams. So, what’s the _point_ , Owen, if you’re just going to break my heart in a year and a half.”

“I said I’d break up with you if you took the job now! I don’t know where I’ll be in 18 months, or what I’d do if you got a job, Spencer. I’m not dating you just to break up with you.”

Spencer and Owen were quiet the rest of the drive back to Spencer’s apartment, the cd still playing from earlier. When Owen parked in front of Spencer’s apartment complex, Spencer stayed put in the passenger seat.

“I’m sorry for picking fights. I’m just so _fucking_ mad about this job- I still can’t believe I was almost _arrested_ just because they didn’t deny my application. Absolutely fucking awful.”

Spencer paused. He was drunk- he had drunk most of a pitcher of neon blue margarita on an empty stomach. He was warm- from love, from anger.

“I love you, Owen. I don’t want to break up with you now or in 2 years when I’m 23.”

“I love you too, Spencer.”

* * *

Spencer left Owen sitting alone under a streetlight.

Owen’s drive home was quick, and it took him all of twenty minutes to go back out. A quick text to his friends meant that Owen was going to meet up with the rest of the PhD cohort at the pub three blocks from his apartment. There were three goals in Owen’s mind when he started walking: get drunk, have a good time, and make it home safe.

As usual, Owen’s physics friends cheered him up. Mark, Owen’s closest friend at MIT, bought the first round. It didn’t take long for Owen to vomit his problems onto his friends, who decided the best course of action was to get Owen very drunk and hope for the best.

It worked pretty well- after his second drink Owen was laughing and smiling with his friends, spinning them around on the dancefloor and singing along to the music playing. It was fun, drinking lite beer with friends and dancing to _Sweet Caroline_ , pretending like he was 19 with a fake ID again. This was not, however, a place where Owen could do three lines in the bathroom and make out with a bouncer, which was something he was considering after his fifth beer.

There had been a girl at the bar tonight- a brunette with these honey-brown eyes. She was pretty and had even danced with Owen and his friends for a bit until Mark had told her that Owen had a boyfriend. It had been kind of rude- Owen wasn’t even flirting with her, just sharing some polite and friendly conversation with an attractive strange at the bar. Owen even said this to Mark, who just rolled his eyes and pushed on his shoulder.

“Just because you’re not flirting with her doesn’t mean she isn’t flirting with you.”

Spencer and Owen hadn’t talked about their “open” relationship since Owen first brought it up with that waitress. He didn’t want to seem pushy- Spencer had been upfront with Owen about how he had never been in a relationship before and Owen didn’t want him to think he had to say yes to things just to keep him around. But, God, Owen wanted to make out with somebody, anybody didn’t matter if it wasn’t his boyfriend. None of this was something Owen was about to tell Mark, especially when they were drunk together at a bar.

Owen was _very_ drunk, but he hadn’t thrown up yet. Somehow, he managed to talk the rest of his friends into calling a taxi across town to a bar one of Owen’s friends worked at. The six of them crammed into one taxi cab and made it to their next bar before midnight.

It was a good night in most regards. Owen and his friends ordered another round of drinks together before they started dancing, spinning around laughing more than dancing to the music. His friend Jessica behind the bar had been super nice the entire night, giving him group heavy pours and extra maraschino cherries in his drinks. When her break came around, she pulled Owen into the alley behind the bar to share a cigarette and a joint before she went back in.

Jessica cracked open a RedBull as Owen lit up the joint, sipping it before taking the joint from Owen.

“It’s really nice to see you out, Owen. I miss seeing you show up on weekends with your friends.” She smiled at Owen before passing the joint back. “You haven’t really come out since you started dating Spencer.”

“Yeah, he’s not as big into partying as I am, I guess.” Owen shrugged. “He did get pretty drunk at dinner though- we got one of those pitchers from Fiesta.”

Jessica laughed and squeezed her friend’s shoulder. “You should bring him out on one of our quieter nights, then! Or we can go out to a show at Maxwell’s, or Joey’s band is doing house shows again. All of your drinking friends just miss you.”

“We’ll see.”

That was an answer that satisfied Jessica, and the two of them smoked the rest of the joint in relative silence. When Jessica’s break was up, she kissed Owen on the cheek before heading back in, leaving him with a half-finished cigarette in the alley.

The alley was spinning a little in Owen’s vision. He felt kind of strange, like something bad, was about to happen. He stubbed out his cigarette and threw the butt into a dumpster before looking back into the alley.

Owen didn’t know there had even been somebody else in the alley until they called out to him. He couldn’t make out the words in his inebriated state, and he stepped closer to the figure yelling at him.

“What?”

“I said can I borrow a cigarette?”

“Oh, sure.” Owen shook his head as he reached in his pocket for the pack of Pall Malls. “D’you need a light too?”

He didn’t realize how close the other person had gotten to him until he felt something cold pressed into his stomach.

“Give me your watch, your wallet, and your phone. Don’t get smart.”

Owen froze. He was wearing a watch? The street was spinning around Owen and his eyes were blurring- from tears, stress, or the alcohol was inconsequential.

“I said give me your watch, wallet, and phone. I’ll shoot you.”

Owen was a lot of things, but he wasn’t an idiot. He handed over his watch and his phone fast, but he held on to his wallet.

“Can I- can I keep my ID? And the picture of my -”

“Give me your fucking wallet or I’ll kill you.”

They pushed the gun further into Owen’s stomach as Owen handed the person his wallet. As soon as Owen handed them the wallet, they jabbed the gun deep into his stomach.

Owen threw up on the sidewalk in front of him, all over his boots and the concrete, as well as whoever was robbing him. He couldn’t help it- he had been drinking for so long on some questionable Mexican food, and he had never been the best at holding back his vomit.

“Oh, you’re really fucking stupid, huh?”

The last thing Owen remembered was getting hit hard in the stomach.

* * *

Owen woke up in his own bed, which was pretty surprising. His mouth was dry and his head was on fire, and his entire body ached like he had been hit with a truck. Pretty typical for after a long night out, but he felt a lot worse than he thought he should. Owen tried to roll over, but he couldn’t flip himself over.

Spencer’s hand was quick to push Owen’s shoulder back down. “Hey, hey baby, stop trying to move please.”

Owen groaned in response. He couldn’t remember much from the night before off the top of his head.

He blinked his eyes open, looking up at Spencer dangling over him.

“It’s gonna hurt a lot more if you don’t stop trying to move.”

Spencer kissed his boyfriend’s forehead. He looked pretty pathetic in bed, black eye and hangover making him look a lot worse than he actually was. It had been terrified to get the call at 1 am about his boyfriend getting jumped behind a bar across town, especially when he was still absurdly drunk. Luckily, Owen wasn’t that roughed up, just a little bruised and drunk, and he didn’t want to go to a hospital anyway. They both got in taxis and made it to Owen’s apartment, where Spencer managed to get both of them in bed.

“How are you fine?”

“Because I stopped drinking when you started.”

Owen rolled his eyes to the best of his ability. “Am I gonna live?”

“As far as we can tell.”

“Okay.”

Spencer smiled at Owen, pushing the hair off of his face. “Do you want anything to eat? Or coffee? Water?”

“No, I think I would just throw it back up.” Owen closed his eyes again. “Could you just lay in bed with me? I missed you while you were gone.”

“I missed you too, babe.” Spencer said, crawling into bed next to Owen. “I’m glad I’m here.”

“Me too.”

* * *

Owen tried to forget the fact that he thought he was going to die as fast as he could. As soon as his black eye faded, he started picking up extra shifts at the bar and offering to cover his friends’ classes for them. He spent most of his days as busy as he could be, so he wouldn’t have to think about how he was convinced he would die piss-drunk in an alley in a fight with his boyfriend. It worked out fine, but Owen was running himself ragged trying to not feel anything.

One of the things Owen had started doing was threatening to drop out of his PhD program. Spencer was mostly sure he was joking, but Owen had made a habit of throwing it out every time something went wrong with his thesis or in his classes.

Spencer didn’t really know how to help Owen, he had a background in Psychology, sure, but none of his classes had been on counseling, and he had never been very good at helping people with their feelings anyway. Spencer decided the best course of action was to end his lease early, moving in with Owen so he didn’t lose his mind. Owen felt _safer_ with Spencer living with him, even though Spencer probably couldn’t protect him from anything substantial.

It was nice living together- a first for Spencer and Owen, and it was easier than they thought it would be. Owen’s office was big enough for Spencer to have a desk in there too, and Spencer’s books ended up taking over the living room. It was nice waking up in bed with somebody you loved.

Spencer had also started cooking for Owen, something he was never very confident in. Spencer had managed to burn nearly everything he cooked for most of his college years, but when he moved to Boston he learned how to manage on three recipes he switched between. Since he moved in with Owen, he had been trying to cook new things for his boyfriend, especially when he was teetering on the edge.

Owen was sitting at the dining room table grading a pile of homework while Spencer made dinner. They were listening to one of Spencer’s classical music CD’s together. Owen was staring at the back of Spencer’s head for 10 minutes before he managed to get words out of his mouth.

“So I talked to my therapist.”

Spencer turned around from the stove and looked back at Owen. “You’re seeing a therapist?”

“I’ve seen her once a week since I’ve moved to Boston. She probably knows more about me than you do.”

“You didn’t tell me?”

“Do you tell me about every doctor’s appointment you’ve been to?”

“I haven’t seen a doctor in 2 years. Besides, I just don’t know why you wouldn’t tell me.”

“It’s not your business, that’s why.” Owen finished his beer and cracked open another one. “Anyways, she said that we should do to DC together, just for a weekend to visit.”

“Why would we go to DC if I was just there? We could go to Chicago- I’ve never been and I know you want to go.”

“I hate Chicago, Spencer. Anyways, it’s symbolic. I’m trying to show you I’m open to going to DC.”

Spencer hesitated, looking back at the potatoes on the stove before talking.

“Okay. I appreciate that, Owen. I would _love_ to go to DC with you.” Spencer’s face broke out into a smile. “I do _really_ want to go to the spy museum. It’s not free, but I think they have a student discount? But I’ve always wanted to go, even if it is America Propaganda.”

Owen smiled back at Spencer before turning back to the homeworks he was grading.

“I love you, Spencer.”

“I love you too babe.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> lmk what u think! thanks again for reading <3 i am excited to post more on this (I have ~30 pages of stuff written that I can't post bc there's no context for it yet so please bear with me)


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want to let you guys know that I’m more familiar with writing scripts than prose. This fic has really been an exercise in learning how to write paragraphs that aren’t in academic papers, and I feel like I’m doing a lot better. Anyways, we are nearing the end of part one of this arc. I think I am going to put the stuff I have already written in a sequel to this just so it’s easier to manage on my end?
> 
> But! thanks for tuning in for another chapter :) hope u enjoy

Spencer and Owen had booked their trip for the third week of March when MIT was having their spring break. It was the first time the two of them had made travel plans together- booking flights over the phone and getting a hotel room. Neither one of them was old enough to get a rental car, but Owen had a friend of a friend who would pick them up from the airport.

Owen spent February and March the same way he spent January after getting mugged- working crazy hours at MIT and picking up bartending shifts whenever he could. Spencer had stopped bugging Owen about his work schedule when Owen started sending him academic papers on coping with trauma, but Spencer was a little worried about how Owen would react to a whole week without work, in a different city and a cheap hotel room.

The two of them were both excited though, for the prospect of seeing DC but also to be spending a whole week together, uninterrupted. Owen had taken the lead on packing their suitcases- ever since 9/11 Spencer had gotten exceedingly anxious about accidentally committing a felony against TSA.

“Do you know where my passport is?”

“Why would I know where your passport is?”

“Because you know _everything_.” Owen sighed and looked up from his suitcase at his boyfriend, laying across their bed. “Can you go look for it? In the office, maybe? With the rest of my identity documents.”

Spencer agreed, kissing Owen on the top of his head as he walked past him to go scour their office.

“Can you check the weather for next week too?” Owen called out to his boyfriend. He wasn’t sure if he heard a response, but he trusted Spencer to find out.

Owen heard the sound of Spencer rummaging through the drawers of his desk and the dial-up internet starting. His boyfriend _had_ heard him after all. Owen flopped down on his bed, eagle spread and tired. All of the extra time he had been spending at MIT had left him mentally exhausted and he was ready for a break. _Maybe I can just close my eyes for a few minutes_ , Owen thought, settling down into his bed.

“I found your passport. It’s going to be super wet next week, so bring a rain jacket.” Owen felt Spencer sitting down next to him on the bed, and his boyfriend setting his passport down on his stomach. “If you’re tired, I can finish packing.”

“No, I can do it.”

Owen didn’t even convince himself with that. He ended his sentence with a yawn, and Spencer kissed his forehead. He was asleep before Spencer had moved his passport.

* * *

The next morning, Owen woke up before Spencer, which was strange. It was a Thursday- Spencer taught an 8:10 seminar for some reason, and Owen knew it was going to be a long day. They were leaving Friday afternoon after both of them were done with their classes and meetings for the day.

Owen liked waking up before Spencer, even if it didn’t happen often. It reminded him of living alone, putting himself through his old routine of making coffee, walking to his mailbox to get his New York Times while he waited for the pot to fill, and doing the crossword over breakfast. Owen grabbed the newspaper from his mailbox without looking at the front and made it back to his dining room table before he looked at the cover.

**BUSH ORDERS START OF WAR ON IRAQ; MISSLES APPARENTLY MISS HUSSEIN**

Owen wasn’t surprised, exactly. This had been a long time coming, and most of the country supported military action. It wasn’t fun to be confronted with the realities of United States Imperialism at 7 am before he had started his coffee, though.

Spencer was going to want to move their trip to DC- even if he and Owen weren’t talking about politics together, there would be no way to avoid the protests and resistance to the war if they went to DC tomorrow. Maybe this would be good for Spencer, though, seeing the realities of what his government was calling for up close and personal.

Whatever. Owen rolled his eyes and flipped his newspaper to the arts section, pulling out the crossword and fishing a ballpoint pen out of one of the kitchen drawers. He sat back down at the kitchen table with his pen and his coffee, but he couldn’t focus on the crossword in front of him. His eyes were drawn to the front page, the cover stories on the ins and outs of the United States foreign policy and military involvement.

Owen might have left the social sciences when he graduated from college, but he was still a sucker for articles explaining the world around him. Spencer found him in the kitchen half an hour later, drawing out a timeline on a napkin, trying to figure out what was going on.

“What happened? They discover time travel?”

Spencer yawned as he spoke, making his way past Owen towards the coffee maker.

“Bush invaded Iraq.”

“What?” Spencer dropped his mug into the sink, swearing loudly when it shattered.

Owen was quick to help his boyfriend clean up the mess, explaining what he had read so far to Spencer as they cleaned up the ceramic shards from the sink.

“So, I take it you want to move our trip to DC?”

“Why? All we have to do now is add picketing the White House to our to-do list.”

Spencer rolled his eyes at that- he knew Owen was half-serious. 

“If I get arrested I’ll get barred from the FBI.”

“Oh, come on, Spencer, _you’re_ not going to get arrested for picketing the White House. What are the statistics again?”

Spencer held his tongue- he knew the statistical likelihood of him, a non-threatening 21-year-old white guy in a blazer and an ugly tie, getting arrested for waving a sign in front of the White House were small. He also knew Owen was definitely joking. But that wasn’t the point- it was the _principle_ of the thing.

“I don’t want to do anything that could jeopardize my future, Owen. I have things I’m going to do with my life, and I can’t fuck that up on purpose.”

“Why are you yelling at me over a fucking _joke_ , Spencer?”

Spencer hadn’t realized he had raised his voice.

“I’m going in early today.” Owen stood up fast from the kitchen table, leaving his newspaper and coffee. “I can drive myself.”

* * *

Owen knocked on the door to Mark’s office twenty minutes after he got to MIT. Mark worked insane hours, but Owen was a little surprised that he was there before 8 am. It took maybe twenty minutes for Owen to start crying on the floor.

“I just don’t know what _happened,_ Mark! Everything was fine until he applied for that stupid FBI position and now everything is falling apart!”

Mark just sat there, in his desk chair, letting Owen have his moment.

“I love him _so_ much but I’m so scared for him- I just want him to be safe and I want him to _stay_ with me! What’s wrong with Boston?”

“Well, for starters the sun sets at 4 pm and the snow is grey instead of white, and we’re sitting on a bunch of floating garbage from the 1700s.”

Owen rolled his eyes and wiped away his tears. Mark was right- Owen didn’t really like Boston either, but his life was here! He had worked hard his entire life to end up at a good school, and Ph.D. positions at MIT weren’t something to throw away.

“He doesn’t have to yell at me about it! I just can’t believe he _yelled_ at me! I mean who does he think he is, yelling at me?”

Owen sniffled and sat up.

“Mark, I don’t want to break up with him. I _love_ Spencer so, so much but I don’t know what to do.”

“Who said you had to break up? You could just put in the work to move past this, couldn’t you?”

“I don’t know, Mark. I’ve never dated anybody this long- Spencer hasn’t either. He’s never dated _anybody_ , really.

Mark sighed and reached down to pat the top of Owen’s head. He knew Owen well enough to let him ramble for as long as he needed. Owen was retelling every argument they had gotten in since January- little things about splitting bar tabs and big things like making Spencer get rid of his dining room table when he moved in. Owen felt like his relationship was falling apart at the seams, and the more he talked about it the more raggedy it seemed.

* * *

Spencer sent Owen an email after 2 hours of anxiety about it. Short and sweet, asking if they could eat lunch together. Owen’s response was equally short: _sure._

Owen was going to be in his office if Spencer knew him at all. It was a quick walk for Spencer to get there, and he knocked on Owen’s closed door.

“It’s open!”

Spencer opened the door to see Owen sitting at the table in his office with two people- undergrads puzzling through an E&M Problem Set by the looks of it. There were equations and diagrams on the blackboard, and Owen was pouring over a textbook. He looked up at Spencer, eyes still red from crying, and smiled half-heartedly.

“Hey, Spencer. Can you wait 10 minutes? We’re most of the way through figuring out torque on a loop.”

“Yeah, sure.”

Spencer hesitated, unsure of where to sit. He cleared off one of the chairs in Owen’s office and made himself comfortable, watching Owen talk his kids through their problems.

Owen was a lot better at teaching than Spencer. He was patient, letting his students guess their answers and work towards their answers on their own. It probably helped that these were smart kids, too- MIT Physics majors were at the top of their field for a reason. It took a little longer than Owen’s estimate of 10 minutes, but the undergrads were on their way with their problem sets mostly done.

“Can you close the door?” Owen asked Spencer, sitting down in his office chair.

“Why do I feel like I’m in trouble?”

“Should you be?”

Spencer paused when he closed the door. He felt like he should be getting chewed out right now. He had fucked up this morning- yelling at Owen even if he didn’t mean to.

“Owen, I don’t know what to do here. I’ve never been in a relationship- this is the one thing I can’t figure out how to do with a book and it’s killing me. I’m so sorry for yelling at you and I’m sorry for being such an asshole about the FBI thing.”

Owen smiled at Spencer. He was tired, emotionally, and physically, and trying to hold off on crying until after lunch. Spencer hadn’t seen him cry yet, and Owen was trying to hold on to that as long as he could.

“Can we get something to eat before we talk?”

“Sure.”

Their walk to the nearby Greek place was quiet- Spencer wasn’t sure what to say to Owen and Owen didn’t want to say anything, in case he started crying. He knew it was silly, a stupid _boys don’t cry_ mentality was just an internalization of toxic masculinity, but he didn’t want Spencer to see his feelings.

Owen ordered a beer with his lunch, even though it was 12:30 on a Thursday. Spencer didn’t comment on it.

“So, can we talk now?” Spencer pushed the basket of fries towards Owen. "We're eating."

“Sure.” Owen picked at his coaster. “I’m sorry for pushing you so much on the FBI thing. You’re allowed to have your dreams.”

“But?”

“But nothing. You’re a grownup- a fucking genius by any standards. You can do what you want with your life.”

Spencer sighed. “Okay.”

Owen bit his lip, sipping his beer to keep himself from talking. He didn’t want to tell Spencer that he couldn’t imagine a future without him, that he knew he would follow Spencer to the ends of the Earth if it meant they could be in love _just like this_ forever.

“I don’t want you to get hurt, Spencer. I know what happens to gay people in the military and in the government office buildings and I don’t want it to happen to you.”

Spencer grabbed Owen’s hand on top of the table. “You don’t have to worry about me, Owen. I’m a grownup, remember?”

Owen laughed at that, smiling at Spencer and squeezing his hand back.

“Plus, who’s to say the FBI will ever hire me after they thought I was a terrorist. That kind of thing sticks in your record.”

* * *

Owen liked DC more than he wanted to admit. He loved the bars and the free museums, how it was a little warmer than Boston, and that he was getting Spencer’s undivided attention. Spencer held his hand when they walked around, something he didn’t like doing in Boston.

Spencer was feeding Owen strawberry ice cream on the National Mall. It was something out of a coming of age movie- the sun was shining and it wasn’t _that_ muddy out. Spencer still managed to complain about the cold, though.

“If we were in Las Vegas right now it would be 85 and sunny.”

“And then you’d be complaining about how sweaty you are.”

“I don’t know how you’re eating ice cream right now.”

“It’s 60 degrees out?”

Spencer looked at Owen, who was smiling at him. His boyfriend was wearing gas station sunglasses and a ratty flannel over a _buck fush_ shirt he made with his ex-girlfriend, but he was the prettiest thing Spencer had ever seen. Owen’s dark hair was all over the place, his cheeks flushed pink, and he looked like something out of a painting.

Owen kissed his boyfriend, pushing his sunglasses on top of his head.

“Are you ready to go?” Owen asked, grabbing his ice cream from Spencer.

Spencer looked towards the National Gallery. It was busier than he would’ve thought, for a random Tuesday in March.

“Yes!”

Owen finished his ice cream, throwing the empty bowl into a nearby trashcan. Holding Spencer’s hand, the two of them made their way towards the museum. Spencer was scanning the crowd out of habit and stopped in his tracks when he recognized a face.

Aaron Hotchner, second in command at the BAU and the one who pinned him on the cafeteria floor as he was handcuffed, was walking into the museum, hand in hand with a woman who Spencer assumed was his wife.

Spencer’s chest tightened and his vision blurred. He couldn’t imagine what would happen if he ran into him in some gallery- would they make small talk? Would Aaron even recognize that this was the man who had tried to arrest him under the Patriot Act? Spencer’s mind was moving at the speed of light and all he could focus on was how he felt like he was about to be sick.

“What’s up?” Owen looked at his boyfriend, head tilted and eyebrows furrowed. “Are you okay?”

“I want to go, Owen. I don’t think I can”

Spencer looked back to the entrance, his stomach twisting into a knot.

“Hey, Spencer, look at me.” Owen pulled his boyfriend towards him. “What’s going on? You spent the entire flight here rambling about Mary Cassatt and how much you wanted to see her paintings, and now you don’t even want to go to the museum?”

“I just, I _can’t_ Owen. He…”

Spencer trailed off. It was absolutely insane of him to be doing this. Irrational, silly, childish. To be throwing a fit overseeing Aaron Hotchner, on his day off, entering a museum filled with thousands of people, terrified to enter.

“He who?”

It was silly. Spencer knew it was silly and he didn’t want to tell Owen why he was panicking, so he stayed silent. He could feel his heart about to burst out of his chest, the cold sweat on the back of his neck, and how clammy his hands were.

“Spencer, if you’re this upset we don’t have to go. It’s _fine_ \- really”

“Okay.” Spencer’s heart rate dropped a little when Owen said that. “Thank you.”

“Of course.” Owen held Spencer’s hand a little tighter as he spoke. “Now I get to drag you to New York to go to the Met this summer.”

Spencer looked at Owen, eyes blurring from tears he didn’t know were in his eyes. Owen was _beautiful_ in the sunlight, brown eyes warm and sparkling yellow in the light. Spencer reached out to push the hair off of Owen's face and his boyfriend smiled at him.

“What do you want to do instead?”

“Well, maybe we can go to the White House? Stop at the liquor store for cardboard on the way?”

“Don’t joke.” Owen kissed Spencer’s cheek, lips sticky from his ice cream. “C’mon, we can go to the Spy Museum like you want to.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> getting indoctrinated to be a radical leftist in 2014 really impacts me more than I think. my seminar was talking about the us surveillance state in response to 9/11 (looking at how transphobic is it) and I was really excited to think about how I could work it into this.  
> lmk what u think! Love u all <3


	10. Chapter 10

Spencer had been sitting on his FBI acceptance papers for two and a half weeks before Owen found them. Spencer wasn’t hiding them, per se, but just choosing to wait to tell Owen about the job offer. Everything had happened so fast- Erin Strauss, Section Chief of the BAU, calling his office line and offering a job, Spencer knew it was a once in a lifetime opportunity. There was something said about “wartime relaxing the rules”, how Spencer would be an incredible asset to the nation if he accepted the position in DC.

He hadn’t accepted the job yet- he had told Strauss it was because he had to get clearance from MIT, but Spencer was more worried about his boyfriend than his advisor. It didn’t matter in the end, though, because Owen found the papers when he was cleaning out his office in May, trying to clear everything out from the end of the semester.

“Spencer, what the fuck is this?”

Spencer was sitting in the living room, curled up in some French Romance novel when Owen dropped the papers on his book. He was silent, trying to collect his thoughts before he spoke.

“I didn’t know how to tell you.”

Owen rubbed his temples, clearly frustrated.

“I don’t like you keeping things from me, Spencer. Especially big things- leaving school to move 8 hours away.”

“I know. It was a shitty thing to do.”

Spencer shut his book and sat it down on the coffee table, pulling Owen down on to the couch next to him.

“I’m not going to tell you not to go. I am going to tell you that I’m not moving to DC for the first serious relationship I’ve been in, especially when I worked my ass off for 16 years to end up at MIT.”

“I know.” Spencer grabbed Owen’s hands, holding them tight. “I don’t want you to think that I want to leave you. But this is what I’ve been waiting for my whole life, Owen.”

“And that’s _fine_ , Spencer. I’m not going to stop you.” Owen was quiet, not looking at Spencer. “I just don’t want you to be surprised if you take this job and you move to DC and I’m not with you.”

Owen laid down on the couch, resting his head on Spencer’s thighs.

“When did you get the offer?”

“Two and a half weeks ago.”

“Did you talk to your advisor yet?”

“No.” Spencer was lying now. “I wanted to wait to tell you.”

Spencer’s advisor was fine with it, as long as he turned in his thesis before he moved to DC. He was already halfway through typing out his dissertation.

“Alright.”

Owen looked up at Spencer. “When do you start?”

“August 1st”

“We’ll have to find you an apartment, I guess.”

* * *

Spencer was surprised at how well Owen was taking the news. He had expected more resistance- more talk about how he was a class traitor and a sellout, a whore for Bush, something with emotion. He didn’t expect Owen to drag him halfway across town to Home Goods searching for a rug.

It was nice to have a day out with Owen. He had bought Spencer breakfast and a coffee from Dunkin before they made it to the strip mall. Spencer could tell _something_ was bothering Owen- he was antsy in the store, zig-zagging between different displays with no rhyme or reason. His boyfriend was being extra sweet, calling him _baby_ and asking for his opinion on things Owen usually didn’t ask for Spencer’s opinion on- like scented candles and what color throw pillows should be.

“Why are you being so nice to me?”

Owen looked at his boyfriend and set down the scented candle he was sniffing. “What do you mean? Do you not want me to help you decorate your apartment?”

“No, I just don’t get how you went from almost breaking up with me over applying for this job to helping me pick out throw pillows for an apartment I haven’t even found yet.”

“It’s a _coping mechanism_ , Spencer.” Owen rolled his eyes without meaning to. “If I can help you pick out enough towels or throw pillows everything will be fine.”

“Owen…”

“I don’t want to talk about this, Spencer. You aren’t my therapist.”

Owen chucked the scented candle into their cart.

“Owen.” Spencer grabbed his boyfriend by the shoulders, turning him so they were facing each other. “We can talk about this.”

“Why? You already submitted your thesis and you’ve accepted your position. There’s nothing to talk about _besides_ your apartment, Spencer.”

“That doesn’t mean you can’t tell me how you feel.”

“I’ve told you how I feel- I’ve been telling you exactly how I feel since you first brought up working for the FBI. If it didn’t matter to you when you were applying for this job or when you accepted, I don’t see why my opinion would matter now.”

“I don’t want you to resent me, Owen.”

“I’m sorry for bringing it up.”

Spencer looked at his boyfriend, absolutely confused in the candle aisle. Owen had been antsier as Spencer counted down the days until he was moving. In 32 days and a handful of hours, Owen was going to drive a U-Haul to DC while Spencer drove his car, and they were going to move Spencer into his apartment. Spencer still hadn’t signed a lease or figured out how to get the government to pay his rent for his FBI training as they promised.

“Are you going to be okay? When I move?”

“I was doing just fine before I met you.”

“Were you?”

“Yeah, probably better actually. I didn’t have separation anxiety then.” Owen cracked a smile before grabbing the cart. “Now come help me find a rug.”

* * *

Spencer knew picking up three bottles of wine from Pier One Imports was a bad idea. Owen had absolutely no filter when he was drunk, and usually, it was fine. Usually, Spencer was on the receiving end of a whole bunch of love, pet names, and slurred _iloveyou_ ’s. Tonight, Spencer had a feeling Owen was going to go on one of his anti-government rants, about how the United States had a military-industrial complex hell-bent on destroying the world.

Instead, Owen put on some old Motown records and made Spencer dance with him around the kitchen. There was something about slow dancing to Marvin Gaye, wine drunk in the arms of a lover.

Spencer never would’ve seen himself there- especially when he was younger. He had told his mom about Owen (and also came out) earlier that month, in the same letter he announced his FBI job to her. He had received the usual encouragement back, but the idea of being _out_ and in love was something Spencer never thought he would’ve been able to achieve.

Not after Matt Shepard, or Brandon Teena. Phillip Walsted or Barry Winchell.

He hadn’t realized he had stopped dancing until Owen was pushing him, trying to get Spencer to spin around with him.

“What’s up?”

“I’m just _happy_ , Owen.”

Spencer looked at his boyfriend, light brown eyes and fluffy hair, somebody Spencer _loved_ and felt safe around.

“Well, I’m happy too.” Owen kissed Spencer on the cheek before yanking him halfway across the kitchen. “Now dance with me.”

Owen turned the volume up on the stereo, filling the room with Diana Ross. He pulled Spencer close to him, resting his head against his boyfriend. The two of them were swaying across the kitchen, spinning around and tripping over Spencer’s two left feet.

“I’m gonna miss you when you’re gone.”

“I’m going to miss you too.”

* * *

Owen had a countdown to Spencer moving out on the whiteboard in their office. Spencer had a to-do list next to it- when he had to get his apartment lease confirmed and when he had to book his U-Haul. The biggest hang-up Spencer had was getting his rent paid for the 20 weeks he was going to be in training- there was no way his savings were going to cover 5 months’ worth of rent (plus a deposit), and it was something that the director of the FBI had promised they would do.

Spencer was complaining to Owen about it while he was cleaning up after dinner- Owen had taken his research position through the summer so he was back to reading some paper at the kitchen table with a 6 pack of Dos Equis in front of him. They both were half in their own world, but Spencer had been going on about the bureaucratic nonsense of getting a per-diem approved, even when he had it in writing that he was entitled to it.

Something about a “misuse of government funds”.

“I was looking at the healthcare I get, and I get a better copay on therapist’s visits that the student health insurance you have now.”

“Way to brag, huh? And you’re not even the one who sees a therapist once a week.”

“I’m just saying, Owen.”

Owen looked up at his boyfriend, who was scouring a pan that had been sitting in their sink for two days.

“Are you proposing? After a cool 9 months of dating?”

Spencer dropped the pan in the sink, and Owen couldn’t help but laugh. Owen drained the last of his beer and cracked open another one.

“What would you say?”

“I’d say yes, but my therapist would probably call me manic.”

“Manic?”

“I don’t know- probably hypomanic because it’s not impacting my quality of life. But, yeah. Hypomanic.”

“So, you’re…”

“Bipolar? I don’t know- I didn’t ask. I just listen to my therapist when she tells me I need to slow down.”

Owen had never offered up so much information about his mental health- he had only just told Spencer he saw a therapist, and Spencer had assumed his boyfriend wanted his privacy. Spencer’s mind was whirring- offering up statistics on bipolar disorder and manic episodes, trying to retroactively piece together everything he knew about his boyfriend.

Was this why their relationship had moved so fast? Why Spencer could never predict how Owen would react to things and why they fought so much (but only sometimes)?

From his spot at the table, Owen could tell Spencer’s mind was racing. This was what he was hoping to avoid- his PhD in Psychology boyfriend psychoanalyzing him while he cleaned up after dinner.

"I don’t want you to think about this too much, Spencer. It’s not a big deal.” Owen flipped a bottle cap in Spencer’s general direction as he spoke, smiling at his boyfriend. “We can’t get married, genius. Not under Bush, at least.”

“I think your mental health is a big deal- especially if it means I need to keep an eye out so I don’t enable your manic phases.”

“Hypomanic, Spencer. There’s a difference.”

“Not to me! I want to help you, Owen.”

“I don’t need your help! I’m not a fucking kid, Spencer- I’m older than you, remember? I was doing just fine before you.”

“You don’t need to be rude about it! I _love_ you, Owen! I want what’s best for you!”

“Spencer, you’re one acid trip away from turning into the Unabomber for Christ’s Sake! I don’t need _you_ of all people telling me about my mental health.”

“Are you high, Owen? What the _fuck_ are you talking about.”

“Do you not read the articles I send you?”

Spencer sat down the pot he was scrubbing. This was _definitely_ not the fight he had envisioned getting in with Owen.

“I mean, sometimes I do. Most of the time. But some of them are just … not interesting.”

Owen rolled his eyes from the kitchen table, something Spencer couldn’t see but could definitely feel.

“When Ted Kaczynski was 16 and at Harvard, they put him through MK-Ultra experiments. Torture tactics specifically designed to break him. It’s why he hates science, why he attacked the people he did. And the government has never once acknowledged that all of the pain he caused could’ve been prevented if they would’ve done their experiments ethically.”

“I don’t know what CIA funded experiments during the Cold War have to do with this, Owen.”

“It’s not _just_ MKUltra, Spencer. It’s the fact that the CIA started Al Qaeda in the 70’s to get back at the USSR and now we’re here, after the collapse of the Soviet Union, watching Bush shove all this money into fighting the same people we used to support. I don’t get how you could support this.”

“I’m not working for the CIA, Owen, I’m working for the FBI. There’s a difference.”

“And when you’re torturing people in Gitmo for government secrets it won’t mean anything.”

“You sound crazy right now, Owen. There’s no way I’m going to be a field agent. I’m going to be doing paperwork in some cubical for the next 10 years.”

Spencer knew he had fucked up the second the words left his mouth. He had always hated people calling him crazy, and he knew it was something he should’ve thought more about. Owen didn’t give him the chance to say anything before he started going in on Spencer, Dos Equis in his hand, and 4 empties on the table in front of him.

“So, you’re fine with being complicit in war crimes?”

“You know what, Owen, if you’re so high and mighty stop driving your car until they stop drilling for oil in Louisiana. Or stop drinking coffee until the industry is slave-free. There’s nothing ethical about existing in the United States, Owen, and my bills have to get paid somehow.”

“How _dare_ I criticize a society I live in! I guess I’m not allowed to be mad that my boyfriend is leaving me for the government.”

“Is this what this is about? Me leaving?”

Owen looked down at the table in front of him.

“I don’t want to say it.”

“Say what- that you’re going to miss me when I’m gone for 20 weeks?”

“Something else.”

“Well spit it out, Owen.”

“I slept with somebody in January! When I had a layover in Chicago coming back from Vancouver.”

Owen looked over at Spencer, eyes glassy and cheeks red. It wasn’t like he had _cheated_ on Spencer-they had always agreed that their relationship was open.

That didn't make him feel any better, though.

“And?”

Spencer looked back at Owen. All he had ever asked for was for Owen to keep his flings to himself, it’s what Spencer had been doing with the girls who talked to him. It was the polite thing to do, and one of the few things Spencer asked Owen for.

“I don’t…”

“If you’re going to tell me, tell me everything, Owen.”

There was something about all the thoughts swirling around Spencer’s head- all the imagined possibilities of his boyfriend, secretly in love with some guy in Chicago who probably had a lot more fun than Spencer Reid, PhD.

“I did it because I wanted a free place to stay for the night. He just gave me a blowjob then we slept on his friend's couch- it really wasn’t anything serious.”

“And?”

“I wanted you to know because he called me a few weeks ago.”

“Just _say_ it, Owen! It’s so much worse when you don’t.”

Owen sat silently at the kitchen table.

“I’ve been texting him back! He’s in some band and he’s going to be in DC in 6 months and thought of me.”

“Oh.”

Spencer felt like he had just gotten the wind knocked out of him. He couldn’t take a breath in- and all he could see was the rice still in the bottom of the sink. Owen was saying something about how it didn’t mean anything, it was just nice to have somebody to talk to sometimes, but Spencer couldn’t shake the feeling in the pit of his stomach.

“Why are you telling me this now?”

“Because you’re _leaving me_ , Spencer. I’m losing the only person I’ve ever loved this much, and you’re running off to DC to go work for the FBI.”

“So, you’re hoping that it’ll make me stay?”

"It’s so you won’t try to take me with you, Spencer.”

“Is that supposed to make me feel better or something?”

“I don’t know! I don’t know anything about your brain works, Spencer. You won’t tell me anything- you keep your feelings so far away from me and I never know whether you hate me or you’re in love with me.”

“I’m in love with you Owen, of course, I’m in love with you.”

“Then why are you so desperate to leave me? Leave what we have?”

Owen’s phone buzzed, and he looked at the screen, lips tightening as he read the name on the screen.

“Is that him- the guy you fucked on your layover?”

“Does it matter, Spencer? We’re fighting about your job or this guy but we’re still fighting.”

“It matters because you _told me_ , Owen! I told you- I’m fine with you fucking whoever and living your life the way you want but just don’t tell me if you don’t want it to be a big deal. It must be a big deal if you’re talking to him 5 months later.”

“I haven’t been talking to him this whole time! I told him I had a boyfriend when I left Chicago, but he called me when he was _so_ drunk last month and ….”

“And?”

“And it breaks my heart knowing the only man I’ve ever truly loved is leaving me in 30 days. So, when some hot guy who gave pretty good head started telling me I was cute I let him!”

Owen looked at Spencer, tears sitting in the corner of his eyes. It was better to tell Spencer everything before he left, get everything out in the open while Spencer still had the chance to leave him and never look back.

Spencer was looking back down at the sink, white-knuckle gripping the counter as the wine he drank hit his stomach.

“Every conference I go to I have sex with a random girl. I like the ones that give really good thesis presentations- the ones who don’t get nervous when they’re speaking to a room full of strangers in a city they’ve never been to before.”

“Do you still talk to them?”

"It’s never been the same girl twice. Sometimes they email me, or they cite my papers in articles they write. It makes me feel good.”

“You’ve never told me that.”

“I don’t know if I like it. It feels sort of wrong sometimes- you’ve called me when I’m talking to them before, and it makes me feel like I’m going to be sick.”

Spencer was pouring himself a drink at this point, overfilling his wine glass with the end of a big bottle of cheap Moscato. He considered drinking it from the bottle but it felt excessive. He had never told anybody about the girls he slept with- he didn’t even think the other people he usually traveled with knew.

“I mean, you’re not _cheating_ on me if I’m okay with it.”

Owen glanced at Spencer, who was making quick progress on his glass of wine.

“I know, it just still feels … wrong.”

Spencer couldn’t explain the feeling, and he couldn’t tell if it was because he was drunk or because he didn’t want to tell Owen what was actually wrong with him.

“Well, I think it’s fine. And we don’t have to talk about this part of our relationship if you don’t want to, Spencer.”

Owen stood up from the table, pushing back his papers and his empties as he stood up.

“I know it was wrong of me to bring this up- the guy in Chicago I mean. I _know_ you never want me to talk about that stuff but…”

“You don’t have to apologize, Owen. It’s fine- we’re adults in an adult relationship and we should be able to talk about our relationship.”

Owen crossed the kitchen in two large steps, coming up next to Spencer and leaning against the kitchen counter.

“But we don’t have to! If you want this to be discreet, Spencer, it can be discreet. I can forget about your conference girls and you can remember that I come home to you, not some boy in a band in Chicago.”

“For now.”

“For as long as you need to worry about me.”

Spencer drained the last of his wine glass. He really wished Owen wasn’t leaning against the silverware drawer- he wanted to get _drunk_ if he was going to confront the realities of his relationship.

“Spencer, I’m sorry if you think that you’re just an irrational, hypomanic choice I made. But the truth is that you’re a choice I kept making- it’s been 9 months and I’m still here. You moved in with me and I’m going to help you move to DC, and I _love_ you.”

Owen rested his head on Spencer’s shoulder, leaning into his boyfriend. Spencer could smell the beer on his breath but he didn’t necessarily mind.

“I love you too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this keeps getting longer and longer and longer and we're still sooo close to being done but so far from me being able to end this story. Thank u to everybody who has commented on this story- I tell my roommate all of your usernames and what you say and they can confirm that they make me so so so happy.
> 
> A/N: If you want some sources here’s a link to an article abt the Unabomber and here’s a link to the Wikipedia article about Operation Cyclone. 
> 
> https://www.theatlantic.com/magazine/archive/2000/06/harvard-and-the-making-of-the-unabomber/378239/  
> https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Operation_Cyclone
> 
> If you (or anybody you know) would want to beta read for this fic/ other stuff I write send me a message! My Tumblr is @guccipherous (the same as my name here) (also if u want to talk about this fic at all message me i would love to chat)
> 
> Thank you for sticking around through this so far!!! It’s been so so nice to share this with people- and to get to work through my radical leftist political thoughts and my deep deep love of Criminal Minds <3
> 
> should be one chapter left (although i think I said that about this one) i can't wait to write it and i can't wait for you to read it! luv from Philadelphia xoxo


	11. Chapter 11

Spencer and Owen usually slept as far away from each other as they could on a Queen size mattress. It didn’t help that Spencer was Too Tall for his own good- 6’3 and most of if it was legs. Still, Spencer had woken up to find Owen curled up next to him most mornings since he had signed the lease on his new apartment. Owen usually slept in later than Spencer, even when he had a job he was supposed to be at by 10. Glancing at the alarm clock, Spencer realized it was only 4:30 am- far too early for a reasonable person to get up.

Still, Spencer found himself pushing back the covers and climbing out of bed, kissing Owen on the top of the head as his boyfriend inched into the warm spot he had left behind. Spencer was as quiet as he could be as he crept out of their bedroom, shutting the door behind him.

Spencer could go on a run? He hadn’t been running as much lately, even though he had more time on his hands. He had been too busy with the move to even celebrate becoming a doctor, let alone to spend an hour everyday sweating as he ran in circles around Boston.

Spencer could make breakfast for Owen? Spencer was a godawful cook when he wasn’t half-drunk, and he couldn’t remember the last time he made pancakes without getting the fire department called to his house.

What he ended up doing was making a big pot of coffee and chain-smoking Owen’s cigarettes on the fire escape. It was the first-time Spencer had chain smoked, the first time he had a sober cigarette, but he couldn’t think of anything else that would calm down his brain.

Maybe it was because Owen got referred to a new psychiatrist and was on a new combination of medications or the fact that the pre-set expiration date on their relationship was drawing closer, but Spencer and Owen hadn’t fought since they talked about their “affairs”. A whole three weeks of peaceful, domestic bliss.

(actually, they started fighting about the best Star Wars movie at dinner the night before, but it was more of a “spirited disagreement” than a real fight)

Spencer smoked half a pack of cigarettes and drank the whole pot of coffee as he waited for Owen to get up. He watched the sun rise over the apartment buildings nearby and the sky go pink and then orange and then blue. His stomach hurt, but he couldn’t tell if it was the nicotine, the coffee, or the fact the last thing he ate had been an early dinner the night before.

Spencer could hear Owen before he could see him.

There was a commotion in the kitchen- it sounded like Owen dropped a pan on the kitchen floor. Owen opened the kitchen window and stuck his head out to see his boyfriend.

“When did you start smoking?”

“This morning.”

“It’s a bad habit. You shouldn’t pick it up if you can avoid it.”

“Alright.”

Owen laughed, leaning out farther to press a kiss to Spencer’s cheek.

“Are you making more coffee?”

“Yeah. Did you smoke the whole pack?”

“No, there’s some left for you.”

“Alright.”

Owen disappeared back into their apartment for a few minutes, then came back to the window, passing Spencer the pot of coffee and an ashtray before he climbed out to join Spencer on the fire escape.

Spencer leaned forward as Owen slotted himself in behind his boyfriend. The two of them got situated on their “balcony”, legs splayed out on the metal bars, coffee mugs in hand and an ashtray next to them. It was hot already- 80 outside, and it was only 9 am. Owen was in just his boxers, chest already covered in a thin layer of sweat. Spencer didn’t mind it as he settled back against his boyfriend, resting his head on his chest.

There was something about sitting with Owen, waiting for his boyfriend to smoke an American Spirit (light green, of course) and to drink his first cup of coffee, that made Spencer nostalgic for something he hadn’t even left yet.

“Nine days.”

“I know. Your party’s tomorrow.”

Spencer glanced up at his boyfriend. Owen had insisted on a _bon voyage_ party for Spencer, mostly because nobody would be able to make a housewarming party in DC. Invitations had been sent out, Owen had ordered a keg, and Spencer’s boxed up belongings had been relegated to their storage space in the basement of the building.

It was going to be great, apparently.

“I know.”

“What’s on your Boston bucket list? What do we have to cross off before you move?”

“You make it sound like I’m never coming back.”

“What are the odds you ever live in Boston again?”

“Can we not talk about this? I don’t want to think about this right now.”

“Alright.” Owen stubbed out his cigarette in the ash tray and wrapped his arms around his boyfriend. “Do you want to go see a movie, then? There’s that _Pirates of the Caribbean_ one- I think we can make the matinee if we wanted to?”

“Don’t you have work?”

“I don’t have to go in until our lab meeting at 3:30. Plenty of time for you.”

Spencer and Owen sat across from each other in a diner in Connecticut. Owen looked absolutely exhausted- he was wearing his reading glasses to look over the menu and Spencer could see the stubble on his jaw. Spencer knew he didn’t look much better- the two of them didn’t sleep much the night before. Spencer watched his boyfriend pour cream and sugar into his coffee, and a few ice cubes from his glass of water.

“What?”

“I’m gonna miss you.”

“Well don’t cry now, you’ll get tears in your coffee.”

Owen slid the napkin dispenser towards Spencer, as well as the box of sugar packets.

“Boys don’t cry.” Spencer said, laughing as he dabbed at his eyes.

“Boys _do_ cry. Just not when you’re about to drive the next leg.”

Spencer still had that ache in his chest- the nostalgia feeling that made him want to quit his job and run off and become a barista or something.

Anything so he wouldn’t have to give up everything he had just found.

“Are you mad at me? For leaving.”

“I don’t think mad is the right word. I don’t think I could ever stay mad at you- I think I love you too much.”

“But?”

“But I’m not going to lie to you and tell you I’m happy about this.”

Spencer was quiet, no longer blinking tears out of his eyes but just staring down at his mug of coffee.

“I’m also not going to tell you not to go, Spencer. I love you far too much to try and clip your wings. I just wished you weren’t flying so fucking far away.”

“I’ll pay for your flights out, babe, once I’m done with training. It won’t be too bad- we’ll make it work.”

“Alright, Spencer.”

The FBI Academy killed Spencer. Twenty weeks of toxic masculinity and gym class ruined his mental focus. Just because he was headed for a desk job didn’t mean that he could skip the fitness tests, or the firearm training.

He wrote two letters every day, one for Owen and one for his mom. Nobody really asked him what he was up to- Spencer was never good at making friends right off the bat. He never sent the letters to Owen, he just kept them sealed in envelopes at the bottom of his suitcase.

Spencer had never held a gun before, and it showed on his firearm certification. This was the first “school” Spencer had ever been at where he was in danger of failing. He wrote about how _scared_ he was to join the FBI in his letters to Owen- how scared he was that he would have to do something _awful_ in the name of the greater good. He managed to keep it pushed out of his mind for most of his days, but every night he would toss and turn in his bunk, mind racing around the idea that maybe Owen had been right. Maybe joining the FBI was a bad idea- something Spencer was unable to do.

Still, he made it through. Twenty weeks of physical exercise and classes on the constitution, plus a whole bunch of stuff Spencer _never_ wanted to talk about again. He walked across the stage at his first _real_ graduation (he hadn’t walked at MIT or Caltech, mostly because his mom wasn’t at either of the ceremonies), scanning the crowd for Owen.

Owen was on his winter break, and he had driven down to DC for Spencer’s graduation. He had unpacked the rest of Spencer’s boxes- the ones left over from when he moved Spencer in to his apartment, and he was excited to see his boyfriend. They had subsisted on 15-minute phone calls three times a week for the past 20 weeks, a whole 15 hours of conversation in contrast to the 6 months they had spent living together.

He hardly recognized his boyfriend when his name was called and he walked across the stage. Spencer looked different. The first thing he realized was how much smaller he looked. Owen knew that Spencer had probably gained weight, pure muscle added on to his frame, but he looked like he was drowning in his uniform. He looked tired, too, the dark circles that were permanently under his eyes were darker than Owen remembered.

Owen cheered, clapping for his class traitor boyfriend as he walked across the stage. Owen felt a out of place – he had picked out the most obnoxious bouquet of flowers he could find for Spencer, and he was underdressed in his winter coat and jeans. Why the FBI insisted on an outdoor graduation ceremony in December was beyond him.

After Spencer walked across the stage and got changed into his clothes, he met Owen in the parking lot. Owen practically tackled him, smothering him with kisses and whacking him on the head with the bouquet he was holding. Spencer shirked away from the affection, but still held Owen’s hand as they walked to his car.

“What do you want to do now?”

“Owen, I haven’t had sex in almost 5 months. I have a pretty long list of things I want to do.”

Owen was staying through Spencer’s first few days of work, just in case something went wrong.

Spencer didn’t expect to be called into the field his first day on the job, much less in the first twenty minutes of him getting assigned a cubicle. But Aaron Hotchner, the unit chief, insisted that he go, even if he hadn’t even been issued a gun yet.

“Do you have a go bag?”

“Yes.”

“And you passed your qualification exam?”

“Yes sir.”

“Then we’ll have the police department issue you one when we get there.” Aaron smiled at Spencer, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “Welcome to the job, Reid. We’ll be heading out in 30.”

All Spencer could think about was Owen, probably still asleep in bed, and how he wouldn’t be home for dinner like he had promised. He dialed the number on the phone in his new cubicle, and Owen answered on the third ring.

“Hello?”

His voice was thick with sleep, something Spencer would’ve loved if he wasn’t at work.

“I’m about to fly to Iowa for a case. I don’t know how long I’ll be gone for.”

“Oh. You’re going in the field?”

“Apparently. I don’t even have a gun yet”

“What do you want me to do, hang out in your apartment for a week without you?”

“I don’t think I’ll be gone for the whole week.”

Spencer looked over, Gideon was watching him- he could feel the eyes on his neck.

“Look, baby, I have to go. Just enjoy the city while I’m gone. Make yourself at home.”

“Are you sure you’ll be back before I go? Because I’d much rather just head back to Boston if you’re going to call me on Friday and tell me you won’t be back.”

“I’ll do my best.”

“Alright. I love you.”

Spencer hung up before he said _I love you too_.

Spencer had an _awful_ case for a first job experience- men being brutally beaten to death and left on playgrounds.

Spencer threw up the first time he saw one of the victims at the scene, getting so sick vomit came out of his nose. JJ sat with him off to the side, rubbing his back and offering chewing gum when he was done.

“Does this mean I’m bad for this job?”

“It means you’re human, Spencer. Most people throw up when they see people treated like that.”

Spencer was thrown by JJ calling him Spencer- most of the people in the FBI called each other by their last name, but he appreciated it more than he could express.

“Is it always going to be like this?”

JJ looked around, Morgan and Gideon were talking, hunched over the body like it wasn’t even there.

“Sometimes. Sometimes it’s better and sometimes it’s worse. But it’s the job, you know? We all signed up for it.”

Spencer was silent for a moment, stomach heaving still.

“Are you going to be okay? I can drive you back to the police station if you want to ease into this.”

“Would you, actually? I don’t think I can do this right now.”

“Of course!” JJ smiled at him, squeezing his arm. “I’m going to tell Gideon and Morgan. You’ll be alright for a minute?”

“Yeah, thanks, JJ. I really appreciate it.”

Back at the station, Spencer sat with Hotch pouring over old case files and victimology reports. Hotch was doing his best to explain how profiling worked- comparing victims and trying to figure out how the victims and the crimes related back to the unsub. Owen would say it was a lot of guesswork, but apparently the BAU was good at what they did.

A few times, Hotch got distracted- his phone would buzz and he would practically leap over the table to answer it. Spencer would guess (profile?) that Hotch had a partner (probably a wife, if Spencer’s gaydar was any good) who he loved very much. Spencer asked about it when they were waiting for their next pot of coffee to finish.

“Her name is Haley. We met in high school and we’ve been together ever since. It’s apparently disgustingly cute, if I can take anything our tech says at face value.”

Hotch smiled with his eyes when he talked about Haley, and he seemed a lot less scary when he smiled.

“I feel bad- we’ve zig-zagged across the country for my work and she’s always just been along for the ride. I’m happy we’re back in DC because it’s where we’re both from, but she’s been trying to talk me into transferring back to the West Coast.”

Spencer felt something tug in his stomach and for a second, he thought he was going to be sick again.

“Would you do it?”

“I think I would do anything for her. She’s my better half.”

Spencer ducked out for a cigarette after Gideon and Morgan came back from the field. He had stolen a pack from Owen when he was packing, but he hadn’t smoked since he left Boston. It was comforting- something that smelled like his boyfriend and gave him 15 minutes to think happier thoughts than dead men on playgrounds.

There was time for Spencer to call Owen, but his boyfriend _should_ be busy at work right now. He missed his boyfriend more, now that he was thinking about him. It was strange- not knowing the next time he would see him. Spencer really had taken living with his boyfriend for granted, getting peeved by toothpaste in the sink and Owen leaving the toilet seat up.

Spencer didn’t call Owen later that day. He didn’t manage to find a spare 20 minutes until Friday afternoon, long after he told Owen he would call. While the BAU was waiting for their takeout to get delivered, Spencer ducked into the bathroom and locked the door behind him, dialing Owen’s phone number from muscle memory.

It took Owen three rings to pick up.

“Hey, Spencer. What’s up?”

“Nothing really, I just missed you.”

“I miss you too.”

Spencer wasn’t sure exactly what he wanted to say- something between asking if Owen hated him and if he wanted him to quit his job right then and there.

“I think we should break up.”

Spencer felt his stomach drop. That answered the first question, anyways.

“I’m not here to wait around for you, Spencer. I have my own life to live.”

“Are you mad? I know you drove down so we could spend time together, and I’m sorry that I had to leave.”

“No, I’m not mad.”

Spencer listened to Owen on the other side of the phone. He had never cried in front of Owen before, and he didn’t know if doing it over the phone counted.

“I’m going to love you whether or not we’re dating, Spencer. It was nice to see you and you bought me Thai food so I guess I can’t be mad. I just think it’s better to break up when I still love you then before I hate you for being gone all the time.”

“Yeah. Makes sense”

Spencer was rational to a fault.

“Thank you for everything.”

“You’re welcome?”

“I’m sorry Spencer. I love you.”

Owen hung up quick, leaving Spencer with an ear full of dead air and an ache in his chest.

Spencer hadn’t cried in years. But here he was, in a dimly lit bathroom in a police station in Des Moines, Iowa.

He had never held a gun before the FBI Academy.

He had never seen a dead body before yesterday.

He had never been broken up with before today.

Spencer wasn’t sure if he believed in luck or a God, but something else was calling the shots in his life. Three months into his job they were assigned to a case in Boston. Cold, grey, wet March days.

It wasn’t too bad, although the center of the unsub’s comfort zone was Cambridge. Spencer wasn’t sure if he could stomach walking around MIT if he had to, even if he had managed to push Owen most of the way out of his mind. Still, four dead escorts had washed up in the Bay, and Spencer knew that there were probably more that they hadn’t found yet.

After four long days of interviewing families and talking to possible suspects, the team was sitting in a conference room, brain dead and exhausted.

“Hey, pretty boy, you lived here a while. Where should we get lunch?”

Spencer looked up from the case file.

“Depends. What are you in the mood for?”

Morgan smiled at him, warm.

“Somewhere we can sit down. I’m tired of this police station.”

Spencer was pretty sure these were the cops that didn’t investigate Owen getting mugged. He had no problem shoving the case files into his briefcase and rounding up Gideon, Hotch and JJ.

They ended up at the Mexican place, by Owen and Spencer’s old place, a lot later than lunch.

“How are the margaritas?”

“Actually, the blue ones are pretty good. A solid ratio of blue curacao to triple sec, and they’re not too sweet.”

“So, I’m hearing you won’t be mad if we order a pitcher?”

“Absolutely not!”

Owen was actually having an okay time. He was working a lot of odd hours to make up rent again, but he didn’t feel any busier than he was when he was dating Spencer. Sure, he cried every day for two months and had to get a new bed because he couldn’t stomach sleeping on _their_ bed, but he was doing better. It wasn’t like Owen didn’t miss Spencer, but it was easier to get over somebody who lived 6 hours away. He only cried on Mark’s shoulder three times, and once it was mostly about the computer cluster failing instead of Spencer. Plus, it was easier to be happy when there was somebody flying out to see Owen.

His fling from Chicago, a bass player named Luke, asked to crash on his couch for a weekend, and who was Owen to say no. It was exciting to have an attractive man underfoot, somebody to keep the bed warm while Owen showered.

Luke’s tour had ended up getting cancelled- something about “corporate sell outs” and a whole bunch of backroom business Owen didn’t understand, but Owen was more than happy to have Luke play guitar for him half-naked after they had sex.

“Do you want lunch?”

“Mmm, I think I’d rather stay in bed.”

Owen kissed Luke, laughing.

“We _have_ to eat.”

Luke looked down at his watch. “It’s a little late for lunch.”

“Takeout? We can go pick it up and then grab a bottle of wine?”

“You’re really speaking my language.”

Owen was always the person to make the phone calls. He called Fiesta, rattling off their dinner order.

Owen and Luke got dressed quick, pulling on sweatpants and hoodies and thick socks before running out to Owen’s car. It was going to be a _good_ night- maybe they would swing by Family Video and pick up a movie to watch.

The two of them had enough time before their order was ready to go to the liquor store, Family Video, and Rite Aid for snacks. They even had time to make out a little in the parking lot.

Owen and Spencer passed each other like two ships in the night.

The BAU was settling their tab, arguing about the per diem and whether or not it included the pitcher they had drank. Spencer was biting his tongue, trying to keep from reciting the spreadsheet from memory, down to the fine print.

Luke opened the door for Owen.

“After you, sir.”

“Why _thank_ you!”

Owen squeezed Luke’s arm before walking to the counter.

“Hi! Pickup for Polk?”

Spencer’s ears perked up. The restaurant wasn’t that busy- it was 3pm on a Saturday.

He couldn’t forget Owen’s voice-but he didn’t believe it was real when he heard it.

“As long as your lunch is under $15 you’re good.”

“I didn’t know you managed our finances, Reid.” Hotch smiled at Spencer, lips stained blue from a margarita

Spencer felt his cheeks flush pink, and he moved to brush his hair behind his ear.

“It’s on the per diem release- $50 for meals and incidentals in Boston and Cambridge a day. The suggested breakdown is $8 for breakfast, $15 for lunch, $22 for dinner, $5 for incidentals, and-”

“How do you remember this?” JJ tilted her head as she pointed a tortilla chip at him. “Do you have a computer chip in your brain?”

“Eidetic memory. I can’t forget things, even if I want to.”

“A blessing and a curse.”

“Something like that.”

“I’m excited to get back to your place.”

“Yeah?”

Owen looked at Luke and rolled his eyes. Somehow, they were still waiting for their order, although now they were sitting in the lobby of the restaurant. Luke had a hand on Owen’s thigh, and gave it a squeeze when he started talking.

“Yeah! I can’t believe you haven’t seen Donnie Darko!”

“My ex wasn’t too big on scary movies.”

“But it’s _so_ much more than that, Owen. It’s a cinematic masterpiece- you’re going to love it.”

Owen couldn’t help but smile.

“If you say so.”

“Order for Owen Polk? Hi, sorry about the wait.”

Owen and Luke turned around to face the hostess.

“Thank you so much!” Owen handed the hostess $40 cash “Keep the change.”

Spencer stood up from the table, heart racing from overhearing Owen’s name. Was Owen here? Or was Spencer just anxious and imagining things? He excused himself, heading towards the bathroom, shoulder checking Owen as he walked by, entirely on accident.

Both of them stopped dead in their tracks, and Owen looked like he had seen a ghost.

“Spencer?”

“Hi, Owen.”

“What are you doing here?”

“Four dead prostitutes in the past three months.”

“Oh.”

Spencer looked at Luke. Was _this_ the person Owen had fucked in Chicago? Had he been replaced _that_ easily?

“If you’ll excuse me.”

Spencer locked himself in the bathroom. He wasn’t going to cry. When Morgan asked him what was wrong on the drive back Spencer stayed silent.

“Ran into an … old friend. Somebody I didn’t really want to see.”

Morgan let him leave it at that, patting him on the shoulder and turning up the radio.

Owen couldn’t believe it. He didn’t want to think that Spencer would come back to Boston and not even call him. What happened to staying friends?

“Who was that.”

“Some guy I used to date. He works for the FBI now.”

“Oh.” Luke looked over at Owen, knuckles white as he held on to the steering wheel. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“Not really.”

Owen texted Spencer while Luke was showering that night. He was going to drop him off at the Amtrak station soon, and Owen missed Spencer.

Even if the thought of seeing Spencer again made his heart race and his palms sweat.

He didn’t want to get back together- he didn’t believe in getting back together with your ex. Owen just wanted to make sure Spencer was okay, that he was eating enough vegetables and getting enough sleep at night, icing his shin splits before they got too bad.

_hi! if ur still in boston we should get drinks before you go_

Spencer’s phone buzzed. Morgan was in the shower, and Spencer was laying spread eagle on top of a made bed. Seeing Owen made him feel _weird_ , like he still loved him or something. Spencer was half-sure it was a break in the case, and he was a little disappointed to see it was a text from Owen.

Is this all he was to Owen? A booty call while investigating a series of dead sex workers in the Bay?

_I’ll let you know when we solve the case._

They didn’t make a break in the case until Thursday night. After that, it unraveled pretty quickly- a Harvard professor with a passion for sexually harassing students ended up being behind it all, and it was very satisfying to watch him cry in the interrogation room.

Maybe Spencer had changed.

Hotch made the decision to let them spend the night in Boston- it was too late to catch a commercial flight back to DC and he didn’t want to find a pilot for the jet on such short notice. Morgan suggested to go out for drinks, and tried to strongarm Spencer into coming out with them because he “knew all the best bars in the area”.

A false statement- most of the bars Spencer knew were the ones Owen worked at, and the cheap student bars where you could get a $10 pitcher. Not exactly something FBI agents would be interested in. Still, Spencer rattled off the first few places he could think of where his team wouldn’t be _too_ out of place, and then excused himself to his motel room for the rest of the night.

_Just finished the case. Leaving tomorrow. Are you busy?_

_Working at old rose 2nite. Will prob b cut at 12 if u want to come by_

Spencer had always liked seeing Owen at work. There was something about the black outfit, the dark lighting, and the fact Owen always poured Spencer’s drinks a little heavy. The Old Rose was one of the places Spencer had thrown out to his team, but there was only a 25% chance they’d pick that out of all the options he had suggested.

When Spencer got carded at the door, the bouncer looked at his ID, looked at Spencer, and shook his head.

“I need some other ID.”

“I’ve been here before!”

“So? ID or go somewhere else.”

Spencer sighed, fishing his wallet out of his pocket and handing over his old MIT Student ID and his FBI agent card.

“FBI agent?”

“Yeah.”

“Alright then.” The bouncer handed Spencer back his ID’s and waved him in.

Spencer spotted Owen behind the bar, dancing around with one of his coworkers. He was nervous now, he had been surprisingly calm until he laid eyes on Owen.

Owen was still _breathtakingly_ handsome- his hair had been buzzed close to his head and he looked like he had been working out more. Spencer held his breath as he walked up to the bar.

“Can I get a vodka soda with a lime, please? And a water.”

Owen looked over at Spencer and his face flushed pink.

“I didn’t think you’d come.”

“I’m here.”

“I can see that.”

Owen got to work making Spencer’s drink, throwing in two extra limes and making sure the glass was clean. Maybe Owen did still love him after all.

“Where’s … your boyfriend?”

“Who, Luke? He’s not my boyfriend, and he went home.”

“Back to Chicago?”

“Yeah.”

Owen looked away from Spencer, making eye contact with a guy at the other end of the bar.

“Hey, how are you tonight? It’s been a while since I’ve seen you here! What can I get you?”

Spencer was painfully aware of the fact he hadn’t even kissed anybody since he Owen had broken up with him. He couldn’t stop staring at his arms, the way the muscles moved as he shook cocktails.

“Hey Owen? When’s your break?”

Owen looked over at Spencer, then down at his watch.

“Maybe in like half an hour? I’d have to talk to Grace.”

“Can we … talk? When you’re not busy, I mean.”

“Yeah, sure Spencer, we can talk.” Owen’s eyebrows knit together as he examined Spencer. “I didn’t really think you’d want to talk, though.”

“What?”

“I honestly thought you came here to give me a piece of your mind. Chew me out for breaking up with you or something.”

“Who’s to say I’m not going to?”

“Are you?”

Spencer sipped at his vodka soda, crushing the lime between his teeth and spitting the rind out into his glass.

“Probably not.”

Owen glanced around the bar- it wasn’t all that busy, and he still had Grace working alongside him.

“I can take my break now, if you want to talk.”

Owen grabbed Graces shoulder and leaned in, whispering something in her ear that made her laugh.

Owen lead the way for Spencer to the fire exit, grabbing two bottles of Corona and his jacket as he passed them. The two of them stood near the dumpster awkwardly, shivering while holding beers and lit cigarettes before Owen broke the silence

“So how have you been?”

“I’ve been good! Working a lot but I’ve gotten to see a lot of the US that I had never seen before, which is fun.”

“Are you seeing anyone?”

“No.” Spencer felt his face heat up and he was grateful for the cover of darkness. “Not a lot of time for dating when you’re making 2 cross country flights a week.”

“Oh.” Owen ashed his cigarette, and Spencer stared at the glowing red ember.

“How have you been?”

“I’ve had some ups and downs but I can’t complain. The cluster went down last month and I lost about four months of runs, but there’s not anything I can do about it.”

“I’m sorry.” Spencer felt like he was stumbling over his words. When did talking to Owen get so hard? “I take it you’re seeing somebody?”

“A few somebody’s, but nothing too serious. I don’t really date, except for you.”

“Oh.”

Owen looked at Spencer, head tilted like he was doing a crossword puzzle. Spencer wanted to ask him what he was looking at, if there was something on his face, but before he could get the words out Owen was kissing him.

It felt _good_ , great even. Exponentially better than the last kiss they had shared- when Owen was still half-asleep in Spencer’s bed before he went off to Quantico. Spencer kissed Owen back, dropping his cigarette and grabbing the back of Owen’s head with his newly freed hand.

They continued making out, desperate and cold, until Grace banged on the door.

“Your break’s over, dipshit. Come help me serve customers.”

Spencer waited out Owen’s shift in the corner of the bar, sipping on vodka sodas with extra lime until Owen was cut. It ended up being closer to 1 than midnight, and Spencer had a 8:30 call time for his flight back to DC the next morning. Still, Spencer climbed into the passenger seat in Owen’s car half drunk and went back to their old apartment.

It was everything Spencer had dreamed about- sweet, sexy, and a little sad. They were smoking in bed together after, Owen resting his head on Spencer’s chest.

“Are you coming back to Boston anytime soon?”

“Not unless another serial killer pops up.”

“Oh.”

Spencer kissed the top of Owen’s head before tracing his fingers along his ~~boyfriend~~ lover’s arm, feeling the firm muscle under his hand.

“So is this what we are? People who hook up when they’re in the same city?”

“I don’t see what’s wrong with that.” Owen said, looking up at Spencer. “Honestly, Spencer, did you think we were going to fall back into a relationship like nothing ever happened?”

“It’s what I wanted.”

“I never would’ve pegged you as a hopeless romantic.”

“I think I’m just hopeless.”

Owen snorted, putting his cigarette out as he rolled off of Spencer.

“Do I have to drive you back to your hotel or something?”

“Either that or to Logan in the morning. I can have somebody else bring my stuff.”

“Can I just take you to the airport in the morning? I don’t really want to drive right now.”

Spencer glanced at the alarm clock- it was 2:30 in the morning.

“Yeah, that’s fine.”

“Good.” Owen rested his head on the pillow, throwing his arm over Spencer. “Now come hold me before you run off again.”

Spencer was the last person to show up at the airport, and he had only texted Morgan to grab his go bag half an hour before the BAU left their hotel. Morgan and JJ were wearing sunglasses, holding large coffee cups as they waited for Spencer. Spencer was all too aware of the hickey in the curve of his neck, and that he was wearing the same clothes he had left the police station in the day before.

Morgan wolf-whistled at him as he stepped into the airport, and Spencer was very happy that he had chosen to take a cab instead of having Owen drive him. It was bad enough he had to tell his teammates that he had a sex life- he didn’t think he could bear having to come out to them in the same breath.

“Good night, pretty boy?”

“Yeah, I would say so.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I have wanted a cigarette so mf bad for the past two weeks but I gave up nicotine and it’s killing me.  
> Anyways, this is the end :,) there are still ~30 pages of this on my laptop so I might put some work into editing them into some one shots to follow this, but thank you so much for sticking around through ~35k of my gay rambling. I hope you have enjoyed this as much as I have.   
> I still would love a beta reader- I am awful at proofing my own work and somebody to talk to about this would always be appreciated. I also have some plans for some ~other~ fics (both criminal minds and not criminal minds)  
> I’m always here if people want to talk sociology or physics, or criminal minds or music or literally anything. Please hit me up on my tumblr (@guccipherous) or comment here   
> Love u all! Merry christmas

**Author's Note:**

> I have a playlist that I listen to when I write: https://music.apple.com/us/playlist/playlist/pl.u-mJy89y4TzVjP0Be
> 
> This is the first fanfiction I've written since high school and I'm really just having a good time with it! Hope you enjoy :)


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